


Short Story Collection - It's A Magical Place

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Series: Short Storie Collections [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Childbirth, Coma, F/M, Family Bonding, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Missing Scene, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post season finale, Post-Episode: s05e05 Rewind, Post-Framework Universe (Marvel), Pregnancy, Serious Injuries, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-29 21:32:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14481618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: A place for everything that is too short or doesn't fit in anywhere else.Latest:Chapter 14: Deke meets his great-grandfather Alistair for the first time. He isn’t thrilled. (Deke & Fitz)Chapter 15: Fitz can't stand the way the others look at him. He flees. He goes to someone who cares but wasn't there ... (Post Season 5, Fitz & Hunter)Chapter 16: Fitz has a bad day. Melinda May has fantastic timing. (Fitz & May, Post Season 5 - Tw for suicidal thoughts)Chapter 17: The team is at the hospital, waiting for information on Fitz (Post season 5 finale, Daisy POV)





	1. Fight Your Weaknesses (Post Framework, Angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz looks at the ghost in front of him and the ghost smiles. (Post Framework)

Fitz is cold.  
He’s standing in an empty hallway.  
It’s dark around him.  
  
He shivers and frowns when he notices that his hands don’t feel right.  
They prickle. They feel wet and sticky.  
He looks at them.  
His eyes widen and he gasps.  
His hands are covered in blood. It’s everywhere.  
  
He draws in a shaking breath.  
Confusion starts to fill every cell of his mind.  
What …

“Fitz,” a voice in the darkness says.  
It’s … familiar.  
But it can’t be.  
No.  
It _can’t_ be.

Fitz looks up and sees _him_.  
Disbelief and panic take his breath away.  
He wants to run away, but he’s frozen.  
He looks at the ghost in front of him and the ghost smiles.

Grant Ward smiles at him.  
It’s the cold, grim smile of a predator.  
“Well done, Fitz,” Ward says and points at the ground in front of Fitz’s feet.  
“You did it. You fought your weakness.”

Fitz swallows and his gaze follows Ward’s outstretched finger.  
And there she is.  
  
Jemma.  
  
Lying on the floor, her eyes open and unseeing.  
She’s lying in a puddle of blood.  
Fitz whimpers.  
He looks from Jemma to his bloody hands and back.  
"No," he whispers frantically and stumbles a step back. "No ... I ... _no_ ..."

Ward shakes his head and raises a hand.  
“No, Fitz, it’s alright. It was the right thing to do. You have to fight your weaknesses. You have to destroy them. Otherwise, you would never be strong enough to make the right choices.”

_The right choices._

Fitz stares at Jemma and finally has enough breath to scream.  
He opens his mouth and -

\- he wakes up screaming.  
He’s screaming and he can’t breathe and he’s drenched in sweat and -  
  
“Fitz!”  
  
Someone’s touching him, someone’s shaking his shoulders slightly.  
Ward - no, not Ward, it’s …  
  
“Fitz, calm down. Please, love …”  
  
Jemma. It’s Jemma.  
Her concerned face is in front of him and she’s cupping his face in her hands. Warm hands … She’s not …  
  
_A nightmare_ , he realizes. _It was a nightmare. It was just …_  
_Oh God._  
  
“Jemma,” he whispers.  
  
She smiles at him, nodding. “It was just a nightmare, love. You … you were screaming. Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
He swallows.  
He closes his eyes for a moment.  
  
When he opens them again, Jemma hands him a glass of water.  
He drinks gratefully and clears his throat.  
“I dreamed about my greatest fear.” He looks at her open, trusting face and feels tears prickling in his eyes. “I hurt you. I … I _murdered_ you.”  
  
She draws in a sharp breath. “Oh, Fitz. I’m so sorry.” She hugs him and he buries his face in her neck, inhaling her familiar, comforting smell.  
“You won’t ever hurt me,” Jemma whispers into his ear. “You won’t.”  
  
He wants to believe her, but there’s also still Grant Ward’s voice in his head.  
  
_You have to fight your weaknesses._  
  
The images of the dream add to the horror scenarios that are already in his head.  
He silently asks himself, how many more he can take until he will break.  
How many more.


	2. The Missing Piece (s5 Finale, Character Death)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May tells Daisy about Fitz. Daisy can't believe it. Until she sees herself. (Post Season Finale)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I have so much to write for this show, I decided to make this a collection for everything that is short and doesn't fit in anywhere else.

Daisy sees May's face and stops, her own smile fading, as every sense of triumph, hope and relief in her is driven away by an icy premonition. She gets goose bumps. She opens her mouth to ask. But words are hard to find at the sight in front of her that utterly unsettles her.  
  
May is leaning against a wall, her arms hanging loose beside her body. Her posture speaks of exhausted resignation. Her face is marked by tears. May's eyes are what makes Daisy shudder involuntarily. They are empty and at the same time so full of sorrow.  
  
May looks at Daisy and a leftover tear rolls slowly down her face down to her chin.  
  
Daisy swallows. And finally the words come back to her. "What happened?" She asks weakly and her first thought is Coulson. Coulson's time expired. Coulson gone. Gone, without saying goodbye.  
  
But the one name May breathes is not Coulson's. "Fitz ..."  
  
Daisy swallows and rubs her arms restlessly. "Fitz? What about him? Is he hurt ? Is he …"  
  
May lowers her head. "He's dead, Daisy," she says softly.  
  
"What?" Daisy asks stunned and for a moment she's sure that she misheard, because it can't be ...  
  
"Fitz is dead, Daisy. He ... we saved Robin and Polly. A part of the building collapsed. The rubble ... he was buried underneath them. Got impaled by a piece of the roof. We couldn’t do anything It happened so fast." May looks at her hands, which are full of small scratches. Covered in blood and dust.  
  
Daisy stares at her breathlessly and everything in her refuses to believe this truth, which May speaks out in a flat voice. Because it can't be. It can't be. She had plans ... she was sure that after all of this, they would start putting their little family back together. Hope. She had had so much hope in the morning when she had watched this family. When she decided to make Mack the director, because he has the heart for it. When she decided to talk to Fitz later and tell him she wanted to help him get back to himself. That they will get him help. That they will somehow make it through this trauma. Together. That they may, hopefully, start to trust again. That they get back at least a bit from what they once had. Back then when Daisy's world had collapsed around her and Fitz had held her. She had hoped. And this hope now dissolves into dust right before her.

It can't be. Not now. Not ... not like this.

Daisy closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them again, she asks tonelessly: "Where?"  
  
May looks at her and shakes her head gently. "Daisy ..."  
  
"Where?" Daisy asks again with more emphasis. Her hands start to tremble slightly. She has to see it. She has to ...  
  
May makes a weak gesture and Daisy follows it with uncertain steps. "Mack is still with him," May says quietly. Daisy nods curtly. She leaves May behind and goes to what lies ahead and what she never wanted to know.  
  
*  
  
Fitz's face is still.  
  
The thought that he's only sleeping feels more real than the truth that makes Daisy's heart ache.  
  
She feels every power disappear from her legs. She sinks to her knees next to Mack and lets out a single, disbelieving sob.  
  
Mack looks at her. His eyes are bloodshot. He has cried them empty. He says nothing. He lets her understand. Lets her _see._  
  
Daisy sees the truth.  
  
She reaches out a trembling hand and puts it on Fitz's forehead. She can't even cry, she realizes dully. Emptiness is everything that is in her now. _He died in the shirt in which he got married_ , she recognizes. She lowers her head and lets out a pained gasp.  
  
Mack puts his free hand on her shoulder. It is a welcome touch. Comforting. Warm.  
  
Time goes by, while they're sitting beside Fitz and the reality remains real and cruel.  
   
"Will you bring him home?", Daisy finally asks softly.  
  
"Yes," Mack says, looking at her. "Are you going to help me?"  
  
Daisy nods. She raises a hand and the rubbles disappear from Fitz's body. She gets up and watches as Mack lifts him up gently. When they step outside, where May is waiting for them, Daisy can finally cry. The tears run down her face freely.  
  
She cries for Fitz. She cries for Jemma. She cries for her family, which is incomplete. Like a puzzle that's missing a piece.


	3. The Future Is Not Set (Post s5 Finale)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz is scared that their future might already be set. Jemma and Mack try to convince him otherwise. (Post s5 Finale)

"What happened?"  
  
The question makes Jemma speechless.  
  
She stares at Fitz, who stands so suddenly, so _real_ , in front of her. He shivers slightly. Enoch throws a blanket over his shoulders. He doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are focused on Jemma. They are examining her face in questioning amazement.  
  
Jemma has prepared words. She wrote them down in the silence of her bunk. She read them again and again. Until they were dancing in front of her eyes. Until she knew them by heart.  
  
But when Fitz asks, "What happened?", when she sees him in front of her, _alive_ , all the words flee and all she can do is pulling him into her arms, clasping at him and sob.  
  
"Jemma?" He whispers, placing an unsteady hand on her back. "Jemma. What …"  
  
"I love you," Jemma says. It's the only thought left. It's reverberating in her head like in an endless loop. "I love you …"  
  
*  
  
Fitz is sitting on the bed in Jemma's bunk and stares at the wall opposite.  
  
He feels strangely distant from everything around him.  
  
The last hour was a jumble of voices, touches, tears, and _Jemma_. There were so many hugs. Everyone suddenly wanted to pull him into their arms at least once. Everyone except Daisy, who had a strange, torn expression in her eyes. Everyone was crying but also smiling. It was confusing and disturbing.  
  
He stood there, stunned and full of questions. Did he trigger this reaction? Why? He didn't understand. It was too much.  
  
After a mumbled apology he fled.  
  
Jemma is sitting next to him, watching him. There is concern in her eyes. She bites on her lower lip and fiddles with the ring on her finger. The ring. Another riddle.  
  
"What happened?" Fitz asks again.  
  
She hesitates. "It ... it's a lot. Fitz. I ... I don't know where to start."  
  
Fitz nods. Then he says curtly, "I want to know everything."  
  
"Okay," Jemma says quietly. She takes his hand. She tells him.  
  
Tells him he made it. That he found her, in the future. She tells him about the Kree and Daisy's suppressed powers. About his - their - grandson Deke. About the lighthouse.  
  
Fitz listens to her and a contradictory mix of emotions seizes him. He married Jemma. He has a grandson. No. Not him. Not really _him_ , right?  
  
Confusion mingles with disbelief and, finally, with a dull panic as Jemma begins to speak about split personality.  
  
Fitz's eyes widen and his breath gets heavier. _No ..._ _This can't be._  
  
Jemma falls silent as she senses his discomfort. "Should I take a break?" She asks softly.  
  
But Fitz shakes his head. It happened. Everything Jemma's talking about did already happen. And he has to know. "Go on", he says hoarsely.  
  
Jemma squeezes his hand lightly and continues talking.  
  
Her voice begins to shake as she tells of how the doctor took control. When she tells him that he hurt Daisy, an ice-cold lump almost takes his breath away. Daisy. That explains the strange expression in her tear-wet eyes. Fitz feels numb.  
  
Finally, Jemma tells him about the day they broke the loop and he died. His own death seems strangely casual, like a whim of nature. He's not really surprised. Doesn't he have a talent for it? For being in the wrong place at the wrong time?  
  
Suddenly he feels sick. He puts a hand over his mouth and leans forward. Jemma says something and puts a hand on his shoulder. But Fitz recoils from her. He gets up hastily.  
  
And flees again.  
  
*

Jemma finds him standing in front of one of the large windows, staring at the universe in front of him, a hand pressed against his forehead.  
  
"Fitz," she says softly.  
  
Fitz hardly reacts. He shifts his weight and sighs. His eyes remain fixed on the cosmos in front of him. "I knew it," he says barely audible. "I knew that ..." He stops and closes his eyes.  
  
Jemma swallows and stands next to him. "What did you know, Fitz?"  
  
She watches as he swallows and crosses his arms in a defensive gesture. Finally he looks at her and says, "I knew that something is wrong. Since the Framework I have the feeling that I am not ... not quite whole. I don't understand it myself. But ... " he takes a deep breath. " I could hear him, Jemma. Whenever it got dark and I couldn't distract myself with the search for you."  
  
Fitz feels tears burning in his eyes as he remembers the endless hours he spent alone in a cell. Alone with a demon he couldn't compete. "So he gets stronger," he says bitterly. "He will get stronger and eventually he will control me? Of course. It's fitting, isn't it?" _It's like the natural end of a tragedy._  
  
"Hey," Jemma raises a hand and puts it on his cheek. "I'm here. We ... we will find a solution, ok?"  
  
Fitz lowers his head. He doesn't feel the slightest bit of the optimism he hears in her voice. "Jemma ... you come here and tell me I'm a ticking time bomb. That I hurt Daisy," he says, getting goose bumps at the thought. _Daisy ... Daisy, of all people. After everything they went through ... And that's how it ended? What if it will end like this again. Or worse ..._ "What am I supposed to do now? Living with the possibility of losing control every day?" He asks Jemma, clenching his fist as anger blends with his fear. "How should I deal with a team that constantly sees me as a possible danger? _How?_ "  
  
"The future is not fixed, Fitz," Jemma says, shaking her head. "It's not pre-established. Everyone here knows that. We can influence it. We did influence it already. We ... we made a mistake, when we started to save the world."  
  
"What mistake?" Fitz asks warily. For a moment he wonders if _he_ is the mistake. Maybe he should have done what he intended shortly after the Framework. Running away. Far away from the people he doesn't want to hurt ... Maybe he should do it this time. Leaving the team. To prevent that someone gets hurt again. To ...  
  
"We left you alone," says another voice in the background, interrupting his thoughts.  
  
Fitz and Jemma turn around in surprise.  
  
Mack is standing behind them, a lost look on his face. "We left you alone," he repeats softly. "That's the mistake we made. We've thought of everything, just not of asking you how you're actually doing."  
  
"But ... you couldn't have known. I should have said something ..." Fitz starts, but Mack interrupts him.  
  
"No. _We_ should have said something. We are supposed to care for each other. We should have noticed that you are not doing well. We gave you a lot of pressure and no relief. We are more than just a team. But we've missed asking ourselves how all the things you've gone through has affected you and your psyche. We left you alone with it. With the memories, with the trauma and with the prospect that it can only get worse." Mack's voice sounds strained and there are tears in his eyes again. Fitz looks at him speechless.

"I'm sorry," Mack says after a deep breath and lowers his head.  
  
For a moment, there's silence as they process Mack's words.  
  
Finally, Fitz says, "I ... I think it will take me a while to ... to deal with all this. To understand. It's a lot."  
  
Mack nods understandingly and lays a hand on his shoulder. "I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything, ok? When you're ready, I'm there."  
  
Fitz looks him in the tear-wet, warm eyes and nods. "Okay."  
  
*  
  
Jemma clings to him in her sleep. Fitz lets her. He senses that she needs this now.  
  
He can't sleep anyway. Too many thoughts are busying his head.  
  
He is afraid. Afraid of what lurks in his head.  
  
He mourns. Mourns memories he doesn't own.  
  
But there is also hope in him. Maybe he can consider what they have here as a second chance.  
  
The future is not fixed. That will be the thought he will stick to.  
  
He gives Jemma a gentle kiss on the forehead and closes his eyes.


	4. Nightmares (Season 5, Fitz & Hunter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter witnesses Fitz having a nightmare. He decides to wake him up. (Season 5, Fitz & Hunter friendship)

Hunter curses quietly as he stops the car for a hedgehog which, for some crazy reason, seems to take a nap in the middle of the road.

"You're lucky that the street is practically empty tonight, little friend," he murmurs to himself as the little shadow disappears in the bushes, clearly startled. He shakes his head and, after a short side glance at his companion, continues driving.  
  
Fitz sits slumped in the passenger seat, his head tilted to the side, his mouth slightly open.  
  
Hunter smirks involuntarily.  
  
At first, it's almost cute to have a sleeping Fitz next to him, who soon begins to snore softly, while a thin thread of drool is running from the corner of his mouth to his chin. But then the whimpering starts. The whimpering and the restless movements. Fitz's body begins to tremble, his hands reaching for something that isn't there.  
  
Hunter is worried when he realizes that Fitz has to be in the middle of a really bad nightmare. He hopes it will stop by itself, but then Fitz starts talking. At first the words are hardly audible fragments that make no sense. But at some point they become clearer and repeat themselves.  
  
Hunter gets goose bumps.  
  
"No ... no ... you can't ... stop ... please ... _no_!"  
  
"Jesus," Hunter mumbles and swallows.  
  
Fitz lets out a sound that resembles a heavy sob.  
  
Hunter's hands tense involuntarily around the steering wheel. He has never heard someone making such noises while dreaming. Sometimes Bobbi wakes him up when she is restlessly moving in her sleep or calling something loud and sudden. But this is different. Fitz sounds like he's in actual physical pain.  
   
His whole body is shaking now and beads of sweat are running over his face. His face is a grimace of fear and despair. "No ..."  
  
Hunter heard at some point that you shouldn't pull someone out of a nightmare. But screw it. He can't let Fitz go through this any longer.  
  
He drives to the side and stops. After a moment of hesitation he carefully puts a hand on Fitz's shoulder and shakes him gently. "Hey. Fitz. Fitz! Wake up …"  
  
Fitz suddenly lets out a shocked scream, his whole body tenses and the next moment Hunter barely dodges a flying fist. "Woah. Bloody hell," he raises both hands. "Calm down, mate!"  
  
Fitz stares at him, breathing hard. He has a haunted expression in his eyes. "Hunter," he says dully. He looks around in obvious confusion. Finally, he raises both hands and stares at them. "What …"  
  
"You had a bad nightmare. Here ... " Hunter reaches under his seat and pulls out a plastic bottle of water. He hands it to Fitz. "Drink."  
  
Fitz takes the bottle with a trembling hand. He drinks greedily. As he drops the bottle, he says breathlessly. "I'm sorry."  
  
Hunter blinks. "What are you sorry for?"  
  
"I ... I'm sorry you had to witness, um, _this_ ," Fitz mumbles, handing him the bottle back. He wipes his sweaty face with one hand and looks away.  
  
"Fitz. You had a nightmare. It's not like we can control what images our heads show us at night," Hunter says, frowning.  
  
Fitz swallows. He shakes his head and looks down at his hands again. After a moment he suddenly opens the car door and gets out quickly. It looks like an escape. "I have to ... um ... fresh air. I need fresh air."  
  
Hunter looks after him frowning.

  
*

Fitz stops a few feet away from the car and buries his hands in his pockets. He stares into the darkness in front of him. Around him is only dense forest. Above him the sky is clear and full of stars.  
  
He swallows and tries to calm his breathing.  
  
The dream still hangs before his eyes. Pictures of things that never happened but are in his head nevertheless. False memories. They mingle in eerie ways with conflicting real memories.  
  
He lowers his head and takes a deep breath. He can still hear them. The screams. People he has never met before begging him to stop. His hands are full of blood and in his heart there is no mercy and -  
  
"Hey, are you alright?"  
  
Fitz flinches slightly. He turns his head and sees Hunter standing next to him. Hunter's face is full of genuine concern. He clears his throat and asks, "Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes it helps, you know."  
  
Fitz shifts his weight. He sighs and searches for words. "Since the Framework," he finally says quietly, "I feel ... torn. I carry memories of a life in me that I have never lived. In this life, I have done terrible things. I hurt people. People who ... who are like Daisy. Who are, um, ..."  
  
"Inhuman?" Hunter asks quietly.  
  
"Yes," Fitz says, shuddering. "I tortured them. For Hydra. For ... for their research."  
  
"But that was not _you_ ," Hunter says, frowning. "From what you've told me so far, you've been thrown into a virtual world with the others. You were brainwashed there, weren't you? Brainwashed by this crazy robot lady ..."  
  
"Yes ... but," Fitz looks at him and bites his lip. "Everyone else ... at some point they all remembered their true selves, do you understand? Everyone except me. And when I left the Framework ... I think I didn't leave it in one piece, Hunter." He lowers his head. "I heard his voice in prison. The voice of who I was there. He is strong. Maybe he will get even stronger ..." He swallows and looks at Hunter openly. "I think I'm about to lose my mind."  
  
Hunter scratches the back of his head. "You've been through a lot, mate. Since I;ve known you, you’ve had to deal with some violent bullshit. And since I’ve known you, you are always trying to help others. To save others. Maybe you should take a break and take care of yourself, you understand?"  
  
Fitz looks up at the starry sky and gently shakes his head. "No. Not now. I ... I have to find the team. I have to find _her_ , Hunter. I can't ... I'm nothing without Jemma. I need her."  
  
Hunter understands. He nods. "But after you found her, will you do something about it then?"  
  
Fitz rubs his arm and shrugs. "Maybe. When I'm able to."  
  
For a moment they are silent. It's starting to rain. Gently first. Then stronger.  
  
Finally they go back to the car.  
  
Fitz sits silently for a while and looks out the window while Hunter is driving.  
  
At some point, Hunter turns on the radio and the quiet music threatens to lull Fitz into sleep again. He doesn't want to sleep. He is afraid to see everything again. Like in an endless loop ...  
  
But at some point Hunter notices that he is trying desperately to keep his eyes open. "Hey," he says calmly. "It's okay. Get some rest. You need it. I'm here to wake you up again if you're stuck in another nightmare."  
  
"Promise?" Fitz asks softly. "I promise, mate," Hunter replies.  
  
So Fitz closes his eyes. It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep. But this time he doesn't dream.


	5. Real Happiness (Fitzsimmons, Baby Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt on Tumblr: fs pregnancy / baby fluff?

“I’m pregnant.”

Fitz looks up from the book he’s reading. He stares at Jemma, who’s standing in front of him, one hand on her stomach and the other on her forehead. There are tears in her eyes. Tears of joy.

“What?” Fitz asks stunned. Because … he must have misheard …   
  
Jemma smiles. “I’m pregnant, Fitz,” she repeats. “We’re going to be parents.”

Fitz blinks repeatedly. Then he swallows. Finally, he slowly says, “You … you are … are you, uh, sure?”

Jemma’s smile widens and she nods. “Yes. I’m absolutely sure.”

Fitz exhales audibly. He looks at Jemma’s stomach and his eyes widen. He shakes his head. “I’m going to be a father,” he states matter of factly.

“Yes, love,” Jemma says, beaming.

For a moment, neither of them move.

Then, Fitz jumps up, crossing the distance between them, pulling her close. Jemma laughs as he wraps his arms around her tightly. “Oh Jemma, I’m … words can’t even express what I’m feeling right now,” he murmurs breathlessly. Jemma nods, closing her eyes, putting her head on his shoulder. “I know. I know, Fitz …”

They stay like this for a short while, just holding each other, wordlessly sharing joy and excitement.

At some point, Fitz lays his hand on her stomach carefully. It trembles slightly. “This is a miracle,” he says softly.  
  
Jemma smiles and lays her hand on his, squeezing it lightly. “It’s _our_ miracle. We’re going to be parents. Can you believe that?”

He can’t. Not yet. But the happiness he feels at the thought is real and strong.

“I love you,” he breathes and kisses Jemma passionately.

*

Time passes slowly. There’s no danger that could make it a hectic, violent, stressful chaos. It’s just her and Fitz, in their cottage in Perthshire. Them and the baby that is growing inside her.  
  
Sometimes, it still feels like a dream to her. To good to be true …

Sometimes, they flinch when there’s a loud noise, reaching for a weapon that isn’t there. Sometimes, Jemma wakes up crying, the images in her head still too clear. The feelings connected to them still too real. Sometimes, she wakes up because Fitz is screaming in his sleep, and when she wraps her arms around him, letting him cry until the pain leaves him, she knows that they still have a long way to go. There are still bad days. There are still panic attacks, depressive episodes and sudden mood swings. They are still going to therapy twice a week.

They are not always okay.  
  
But the happiness they feel is real. It happens now. It won’t be gone tomorrow. Not this time. Never again.

The baby makes their new life even brighter. They muse over the future for hours, while lying in bed lazily, Fitz stroking a hand over her stomach, his eyes full of wonder and happy disbelief. They take their time to imagine. To dream and laugh about things that are yet to come.

Of course they are anxious from time to time.

Jemma once starts crying because she’s sure that she will do something very important wrong. Fitz once asks, “Are you sure she’s going to like me? What if I … if I’m going to be like my father?” He shudders and Jemma’s heart aches for him. “You aren’t him, Fitz,” she says. She doesn’t only mean Fitz’s father with _him_ and they both know it. “You’re going to be a great father.”  
He nods and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

  
Together they always manage to quiet the bad thoughts and replace them with bright confidence.

*

Maggie decides to enter the world a little too early.

“Oh, she’s impatient. She’s going to be such a curious little thing,” Jemma says breathlessly between two pained gasps.

Fitz smiles faintly. He’s holding her hand and squeezes it lightly, when another wave of pain rolls over Jemma, making her groan.

“You’ll stay?” Jemma asks softly.

Fitz nods. “Of course. Together, Jemma. Always together.”

Jemma smiles up at him and whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Fitz says, giving her a gentle kiss on her forehead.

*

Fitz is holding Maggie in his arms and he can’t take his eyes off her face. Her eyes are wide open and bright. They are full of trust and Fitz feels like he’s going to burst with love for her.

“I’m going to protect you,” he whispers. “I’m always going to be there for you. I promise.”

He carefully strokes her cheek with one finger, and Maggie suddenly grabs it. Her little, soft hand curls around his finger with surprising strength. Fitz smiles at her, his heart filling with happiness, proudness and love.

He looks at Jemma, who is fast asleep. They're finally back at their cottage. Back in their peaceful life, that is now so much more promising and beautiful. It's all he ever wanted. He doesn't need more. He just needs this to last. _And it will_ , he tells himself confidently. He finally can believe it. This life, the happiness, will last.

He rocks Maggie gently until she's asleep too. He carefully puts her into her cradle and finally goes to bed himself, exhaustion filling every cell of his body in a sudden wave. He lays on his side, facing Jemma, closing his eyes. Sleep comes fast and it's calm.


	6. Are You Sure? (Season 5, Fitzhunter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Hunter breaks Fitz out of prison, they are on the run. One evening they are talking. But suddenly their conversation turns into something unexpected yet marvelous. (Season 5/Fitzhunter)  
> !Sexual Content!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, well ... this somehow happened.  
> I thought about Hunter and Fitz in "Rewind" and I just wanted to write something about them. Then it became porn.  
> I hope you like it a bit.  
> I guess it's my contribution for Pride Month now ^^

_Maybe this is a mistake._  
  
The thought is only vague, suppressed by naked longing and breathless excitement.  
  
It happens fast.  
  
In one moment they are sitting side by side on the only mattress in the back of the van, a beer next to them and their quiet voices accompanied by the constant rain drumming onto the roof above them. The muffled conversation is pleasant. It's the first time in a long while that Fitz speaks to someone and feels that he is understood.  He gets rid of things that were slowly consuming him from the inside out.  That were tearing him apart.  
  
The last months are a mess in his head and another crack in his damaged soul.  
  
Hunter listens, his face serious and his eyes startled. He gives comfort without doing or saying much. He is there and real. That's enough.  
  
Fitz doesn't even notice that tears are running over his face at some point, until Hunter catches one with a finger and gently wipes it away.  
  
Fitz flinches, the touch like an electric shock on his cool skin.  
  
Hunter mumbles, "Sorry", and takes his hand away. There's something heavy, something rough in his voice.  
  
They look at each other.  
  
They look at each other and suddenly there's something between them that's different from the quiet, open connection of trust and understanding.  
  
It's perceptible and yet so timid that it may just be imagination.  
  
Fitz realises that he doesn't want it to be imagination.  
  
So he says, "I don't mind."  
  
Hunter's eyes widen slightly. He swallows. Fitz waits.  
  
The next moment, it happens fast.  
  
Hunter's hand is on his cheek.  Warm and a bit rough. Fitz involuntarily leans into the touch.  
  
Hunter's eyes are close. They are bright, calm streams. But there's a question in them that Fitz doesn't want to hear. It comes anyway. "Are you sure?"  
  
The answer is already set. No.  He isn't sure. These days, he isn't sure about anything. The world around him is a fragile construct. The walls of his mind are crumbling. But he also doesn't want to feel _sure_.  He wants to feel alive.  Wants to feel real.  Solid.  
  
And before there can be any more words, before this is over before it starts, he pulls Hunter into a kiss. It isn't tender or testing. It's wild and almost desperate. Hunter gasps into Fitz's mouth and Fitz bites his lower lip teasingly. Hunter chuckles breathlessly. As a silent response he shoves his tongue into Fitz's mouth and drinks the soft moan he receives in return.  
  
They separate, breathing heavily. After a moment Hunter smiles somewhat dangerously and presses Fitz down on the mattress. "You're crazy," he whispers roughly in Fitz's ear as he quickly gets rid of their clothes in practiced movements. "Completely crazy."

Fitz thinks he's right.  In more ways than one.  
  
He closes his eyes and sighs as Hunter slowly sinks on top of him, as their bare skin meets and connects.  All cold disappears from his body.  His hand wanders over Hunter's back.  He feels some scars there.  He isn't surprised.  Scars on the outside or on the inside ... They all have them.  They are all a network of scars.  
  
He can feel Hunter's erection hot and hard against his thigh.  The arousal captures him in waves, making him feel a little dizzy. Hunter's kissing him again. This time it's passionate and promising. Fitz closes his eyes and just feels.  
  
There is little room for thoughts in his head. Finally, for the first time in a long time, he feels comfortably empty. He is ready to lose himself.  At least for the moment.  
  
But then Hunter gets up on his elbows, frowning. The doubt is back in his eyes.  Doubt and caution. Fitz hates it. "Hey, love.  It's not like I don't want this.  But you have to understand that this comes ... very sudden.  I'm not someone who rejects casual sex.  Quite the contrary.  Especially not when it's someone I actually have a crush on for ages.  But ... are you sure?  Like ... Really sure?"  
  
Fitz looks up at him and says, with a hint of aggression in his voice, "Does it look like I don't want it?"  
  
Hunter shrugs.  "I just want to hear it from you. Loud and clear.  Do you want this?  With me?"  
  
"Yes," Fitz says almost desperately.  And because it's not enough, because the single syllable can't express how he feels, he adds breathlessly, "Please ..."  
  
The hardness and the doubt disappear from Hunter's eyes.  What remains is gentle wondering mixed with open desire. He exhales shakily and says quietly, "I want it too.  Fuck I want it.  And damn it, you deserve so much ... words can't express that.  Not now.  But ... I can try to show you."  
  
The next moment he lowers his head and presses his lips on Fitz's neck gently.  Fitz turns his head to give him more space and closes his eyes. His touch-starved skin tingles intensively.  


_Make me feel real ..._ _Show me that there's more than darkness and desperation and fear._ _Please ..._  
  
Time goes by without them having a feeling for it. They move without words, guided by gentle touches, pleading glances and quiet sounds. It's almost like Hunter can read Fitz's thoughts and soon they are in perfect sync. It's surprisingly marvelous. And although it may look like that, it's not just sex. It's so much more.  
  
From somewhere Hunter gets lube and condoms. He takes his time preparing. So much time that at some point Fitz bites him in the shoulder in slight annoyance. Hunter chuckles. "Impatient", he mumbles and carelessly throws the lube away, after he put a generous amount of it on his cock.  
  
He watches Fitz's face intently as he presses into him carefully. They both groan at the feeling and Hunter stays still for a moment, breathing heavily.

He puts a hand on Fitz's cheek and kisses his forehead. Then he begins to move. The first thrusts are torturously cautious.  


Fitz knows that Hunter wants to make sure he doesn't hurt him, but he needs more. "Harder," he says curtly

Hunter obeys. He angles his hips differently after a few firmer thrusts and hits the right place. Fitz moans helplessly. He clings to Hunter's shoulders.  His fingernails leave narrow, pale red stripes. Both of them know that they won't last long. It's too intense. It's so intense that it's almost painful in a good way.  
  
Hunter gasps in Fitz's slightly open mouth and reaches down between them to touch Fitz's cock.  He runs his thumb over the tip, spreading the precum there, stroking, searching for a rhythm. His movements are sure and determined.  
  
Fitz whimpers and his eyelids flutter.  
  
"Look at me," Hunter says hoarsely.  
  
Fitz obeys.  
  
His eyes meet Hunter's. Hunter's gaze doesn't leave him once. He sees every emotion on his face. Every expression of pleasure.  
  
"You're gorgeous," he finally breathes and Fitz tips over the edge suddenly.  Violently. His hands clench on Hunter's shoulders and he utters a hoarse cry as the pleasure in him erupts in a wave that shakes his whole body.  
  
Hunter's thrusts are becoming increasingly uncontrolled. He curses and presses his face against Fitz's neck as he comes himself, groaning breathlessly.  
  
For a moment they can only gasp, still clinging to each other, connected by sweat and lingering, numbing pleasure.  
  
Finally, Hunter withdraws carefully.  He rolls over on his side, staring at the ceiling, breathing heavily. "Fuck ... wow", he mumbles hoarsely.  
  
"Yeah," Fitz agrees and puts an arm over his face.  
  
Hunter looks over at him and smiles.  He doesn't say anything else.  He gets rid of the condom and gets them two bottles of water. They are drinking in silence. Their heartbeats calm down and a pleasant, drowsy fatigue overcomes Fitz.  
  
In a short time he finds himself on the mattress again.  Hunter's laying beside him, already sound asleep. He's snoring slightly.  
  
Fitz stares into the void, asking himself how he's feeling. Safe, he notes.  Safe and whole. It is a good feeling.  
  
_Sometimes_ , he thinks wearily, _you find what you need where you didn't really expect it._  
  
He closes his eyes. Pleasant exhaustion fills every cell of his body and takes away the thoughts. He falls asleep with one hand on Hunter's chest.


	7. Colors (Post s5 Finale, Fitzsimmons)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the team finds Fitz in space, Fitz and Jemma move into a cottage in Scotland to heal together. But Fitz starts to think that Jemma is better off without him. (Post s5 Finale)

The cottage is nice.  
  
It is a postcard-worthy sight. Nestled in a deep green meadow which is covered with wildflowers., framed by cherry trees and stout, old beeches. The cottage itself is big and massive. Gray stone, overgrown here and there with ivy. Two floors. Large windows that let a lot of sunlight into the building.  
  
The building radiates peace and safety.  
  
It's exactly like Jemma and Fitz imagined it to be. Back in the past, when they were musing over their future. It's perfect. Fitz knows that.  
  
But while Jemma moves through the new, unfamiliar rooms with obvious excitement and lightness, Fitz feels unbelievably heavy. He sinks on the first bed he finds and hides his face in his hands.  
  
Gray sadness fills his mind. It transfers to its whole environment. It's like all the colors were taken out of his world.  
  
*  
  
The room of his therapist Dr. McCartney is nice too.  
  
There's a fish tank in it.  
  
Fitz is sitting in the cushioned armchair in front of the therapist's desk, observing the fish. They know neither hurry nor stress. They are moving in slow, steady synchrony, while the colorful corals around them are swinging gently. It's hypnotic.  
  
He almost forgets that there's someone sitting opposite him. Someone he's supposed to talk to. He almost forgets.  
  
But then the voice rips him out of his rigidity. "Why are you here, Fitz?"  
  
Fitz answers in the fraction of a second. "Jemma."  
  
The answer is crystal clear in his mind. The only stable thought. An anchor in an ocean of uncertainty.   
  
"I don't want to hurt her," he adds after a moment's hesitation.  
  
_Why are you still here then?_ A voice in his head asks maliciously. _Why are you staying near her? After all you know exactly that she only has to fear one thing ..._  
  
"Me," Fitz whispers tonelessly. Cold sweat builds on his forehead. He can feel his breath getting faster. Hectic.  
  
_Jemma ... I will hurt her. I will …_  
  
"Fitz?"  
  
_Actually, the solution is obvious. I just have to leave. To protect her ..._ The thought hurts in its clearness. He bends forward, his body trembling. He starts to feel lightheaded. Disconnected from the world.  
  
Suddenly, there's a hand is on his shoulder. Solid. Real. So reassuringly real. "Take some deep breaths," Dr. McCartney says calmly.  
  
Fitz obeys.  
  
After a while, the world comes back to him. He looks around confused. His gaze falls on the fish tank. Then on the therapist in front of him. He swallows.  
  
"You had a panic attack," Dr. McCartney states and hands him a glass of water.  
  
Fitz takes it and drinks hastily. His cheeks burn in shame.  
  
"Is there something you want to talk about?" The therapist asks.  
  
Fitz opens his mouth a few times and closes it again. He glances at the fish tank, where the fish are suddenly swimming back and forth quickly. They seem startled. The synchrony destroyed.  
  
The next moment Fitz jumps up and flees.  
  
  
When Jemma asks him how it went, he only shakes his head and goes to bed.

*

It's simple.  
  
Too simple.  
  
There is no space for him in this world. He is an anomaly.  
  
And everything around him, everything in him, everything makes this thought a fact.  
  
He married the love of his life and doesn't remember. He hurt Daisy and he doesn't remember. He met his grandson and he doesn't remember.  
  
He died. And he doesn't remember.  
  
Instead, he remembers two lives of which he has only really lived one. It's absurd. Absurd that he remembers Ophelia's kisses ( _A.I.D.A._ , he reminds himself and shudders, _her name was A.I.D.A., and she was ... she wasn't ... wasn't my girlfriend. Never._ ) but not Jemma in her wedding dress.  
  
He wants to scream and despair. But Jemma is there and she looks at him. The marks the grief left on her are still visible. Her eyes full of love and care, even though the signs of her grief are still visible. Her grief for her husband. She is still crying for him, Fitz knows. She is crying for this strange man he wasn't but should have been. He mustn't hurt her even more.  
  
So he holds his anger, his despair and his helplessness inside.  
  
Mirrors become his enemies.  
  
They reflect his eyes, which are full of questions and lurking shadows.  
  
Once he smashes his reflection with his fist.  
  
The glass covers the ground on which he sinks down, trembling and panting.  
  
He looks at the shards and as his tear-wet eyes now stare at him a hundred times, he almost laughs.  
  
It's absurd.  
  
Jemma comes. She puts a warm hand on his cheek. She leads him out of the room. She bandages his hand. She clears away the shards. She cries.  
  
Fitz sees her tears and silently hates himself.  
  
*  
  
"What do you think you're doing?"  
  
May's voice is hard. But there is a soft undertone in it. He knows that voice well enough to know she's worried.  
  
"I'm leaving," Fitz says, his hand tightening on the handle of his suitcase.  
  
May frowns. They are standing on a road in the middle of nowhere. "Where to?" She asks mildly and looks around.  
  
Fitz shrugs. "Anywhere."  
  
May shakes her head. "What about Jemma? She worries."

Fitz grits his teeth. "She has to understand. She will understand. This is the only way ..."  
  
"She loves you", May says calmly.  
  
Fitz closes his eyes. His heart hurts. "I love her too. And that's why I'm leaving. I ... I just want her to be happy," he whispers. "She can't be happy while I'm near her."  
  
"Why?" May asks, crossing her arms.  
  
Fitz avoids her eyes. "I'm not the man she married."  
  
May nods. "This is true. But you're the man she fell in love with. You're the man who saved her life more than once. You are the man of her past. And the man of her future."  
  
Fitz swallows. Tears are burning in his eyes. "You don't understand. I may be this man, but I can't ... I'm damaged," he says desperately. "What happened to Daisy ... it could be Jemma next time. I could hurt her. How should I live with this possibility?"  
  
May shakes her head slightly. "The future is not predetermined. We shape it ourselves. With our decisions and actions. You have already taken the first step when you decided to come here with Jemma. But now ... now you're running away. And this is never the solution. Believe me."  
  
A shadow flits over her eyes for a moment. As if a memory would torment her.  
  
Fitz sighs and wipes the tears from his face with one hand. "I don't know if I'm strong enough," he says softly.  
  
May puts a hand on his shoulder. "You are not alone," she says gently. "You have Jemma. And you both have a whole team that is there for you. Go home, Fitz."  
  
And he does just that. He goes back home.  
  
Jemma clings to him, sobbing. He lets it happen. "I'm sorry," he mumbles in her ear.  
  
He doesn't even know why and how May found him. But he is grateful to her.

*

The next time he enters the therapist's room, the fish are back in perfect sync.  
  
Dr. McCartney looks up from some documents and smiles. "Fitz," he says. It sounds pleasantly surprised and questioning.  
  
Fitz takes a deep breath. "I think I need help," he says carefully.  
  
The therapist looks at him thoughtfully and then points to the chair in front of the desk. "Take a seat, please."

Fitz obeys.  
  
In the end, talking is difficult and painful, but he feels increasingly lighter.  
  
Light and real.  
  
*  
  
The colors are back.  
  
It's summer and Jemma wears a beautiful, yellow floral-patterned dress.  
  
She balances on his shoulders and giggles nervously as she tries to pick cherries from the tree in their garden in this shaky position.  
  
Fitz holds her feet tight and tries to stand as calm as possible.  
  
But they fall over nevertheless.  
  
Jemma lands safely on him, with a breathless scream. All air is squeezed out of Fitz's lungs, his ribs protesting under Jemma's unexpected weight, but he laughs. The cherries are scattered around them in the high grass.  
  
"That was stupid," Jemma says dryly, as they have overcome their fright, shaking her head. "We need a ladder."  
  
They look at each other and start to laugh. Sometimes it's nice being silly. It can be liberating.  
  
They laugh and then they kiss. It's timid and slow. But it's a start.  
  
*

In the evening they are standing on the veranda, watching the sunset.  
  
Jemma is standing in front of him and he looks at her, his heart full of wonder and love.  
  
Not a day goes by on which he isn't grateful that he has stayed. That he gave this life a chance.  
  
And sure, sometimes it's still difficult. Sometimes he still feels disconnected and out of place. But there is always something that brings him back. There's always Jemma.  
  
Together they can rewrite the future.  
  
As Jemma turns to him and smiles, Fitz involuntarily holds his breath. In her smile lies the colorful beauty of the world.


	8. Monkeys, popcorn and bad dreams (Post s5/Fitzsimmons family)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz spends an evening alone with his daughter. There is popcorn, monkeys and love. But also a bad dream and some truths.

"I want to go there," Maggie says, pointing to the TV, her eyes wide open and sparkling. "Right there. Where the monkeys are."  
  
"You want to go to the jungle?" Fitz asks smiling.  
  
"Yes!" Maggie calls and drums a quick rhythm on her chest, in the happy parody of a gorilla.

Fitz laughs.  
  
It's late summer and life is easy. He is sitting on the couch with his six-year-old daughter, a bowl of popcorn between them and the family-cuddling-blanket around their shoulders. Jemma is with Daisy. A long planned Ladies' Night. She will stay at Daisy's overnight.  
  
Maggie looks back to an extremely satisfying Saturday evening. She knows  that Fitz finds it harder to say no to her than Jemma. And after a visit to McDonalds, a Disney movie and now a documentary about monkeys - which she likes as much as Fitz - Maggie is obviously tired, but still happily boisterous. She looks spellbound at the screen, where a group of gorillas moves through the dense jungle.  
  
"But you know that the jungle is full of dangers, don't you?" Fitz asks her in a slightly lurking tone.  
  
Maggie's eyes widen and she giggles excitedly. "Oh yes, tigers, snakes and maybe some cool poisonous insects," she says happily.  
  
Fitz nods and smiles. "And what," he says slowly, "What if the monkeys kidnap you and take you to their secret palace deep in the jungle, like they did with Mowgli?" He suddenly grabs her with both hands and tickles her sides until Maggie is breathless with laughter and pushes him away. "Daddy!"  
  
"Tell me, what will you do then?" Fitz asks and ruffles her hair.  
  
"I will learn their language and be their friend!" She says cheerfully and manages to pour a handful of popcorn into her mouth with childlike ease.  
  
Fitz shakes his head gently, smiling brightly.  
  
The jungle and the monkeys disappear on the screen. The final credits start running, accompanied by soft music.  
  
Maggie yawns extensively. Suddenly she climbs into Fitz's lap, wrapping her arms around him. "I love you, Dad," she mumbles.  
  
Fitz hugs her, pressing a gentle kiss on her head. "I love you too, little monkey."  
  
*

The ocean is dark.  
  
Fitz places his palm on the cool pane that separates him from the impenetrable water.  
  
He feels empty. Something is missing ... The next moment, as he looks around in the pod, he knows what's wrong. Jemma is not with him. He is alone. Alone in the depth.

He realises that he's scared. The fear creeps in every cell of his mind. He gets goosebumps.  
  
When he turns back to the pane, he sees his reflection in the glass and is startled by the sudden coldness in his own eyes. There are shadows lurking in them. He turns away shuddering and freezes. He gasps in shock.

In front of him stands his reflection in person. The Doctor. He looks at Fitz and smiles. "Here we are now. Just the two of us," he says slowly. It sounds satisfied.  
  
Fitz swallows. "Where's Jemma?"  
  
The Doctor tilts his head. "Well, you killed her. It was ... inevitable. A logical consequence of our journey."  
  
Fitz stumbles back a few steps and shakes his head. "No," he breathes. "No ..."  
  
"Yes," The Doctor says coldly. He points to Fitz's hands. "Look."  
  
And Fitz looks at his hands, which are suddenly covered in blood. He whimpers in horror and fear.  
  
_Oh God._ No. This can't be. Not this. Please not this ...  
  
He opens his mouth and screams while The Doctor laughs.  
  
*

Fitz wakes up, screaming.  
  
He sits up in bed and stares into the void. His breath is short and hectic. Beads of cold sweat are running down his back and he shudders. A nightmare. One of the worst kind. They come especially when Jemma is not next to him.  
  
Hurting her is his worst fear.  
  
And although he hasn’t heard or seen The Doctor for a long time now, although medication, therapy and _love_ helped drive the demons away, he's still scared sometimes that this specific ghost could come back to destroy their happiness. Like a curse ...  
  
His nightmares reflect this fear in the most horrible way possible.  
  
He presses a trembling hand on his mouth and groans softly as a wave of nausea seizes him.  
  
Suddenly he hears the door slowly opening. Hesitant steps approach the bed. "Dad?"  
  
Fitz swallows. Guilt stirs in him. He scared his daughter. For a moment old but well-known feelings and thoughts come back to him. _You're worthless. Useless. Weak._  
  
He shakes his head. Tries to chase away the thoughts and focus on Maggie, standing in front of the bed with a finger in her mouth.

"Maggie," he says calmly. "I ... it was just a bad dream. Don't worry, okay?"  
  
Maggie pats even closer to the bed. Fitz can see her eyes in the pale light, that the moon and the streetlights throw into the room. They are wide open, full of worry and anxiety. She takes her finger out of her mouth and asks, "A _really_ bad dream?"  
  
Fitz nods. "Yes."  
  
Maggie bites her lip. "Can I stay with you?" She finally asks.  
  
Fitz opens his arms invitingly. "Of course little monkey."  
  
The next moment Maggie crawls into bed and slips under the blanket next to him. She lets him pull her into his arms and nestles her head against his chest. For a while, they are just lying there. Maggie's even breaths and her warmth are comforting. The images of the nightmare slowly vanish. "Why did you have a really bad dream, Dad?" His daughter finally asks.  
  
Fitz runs his fingers through her hair and sighs. "You know monkey ... life is not always easy. Sometimes bad things happen and you can't do anything about it. Your mother and I ... we have experienced a lot of such things. And they don't just go away. Nightmares show us things we fear. Things that hurt us."  
  
Maggie looks at him thoughtfully. "Did those bad things happen when Mum and you were secret agents?"  
  
"Yes," Fitz says and swallows. "But this life is over now. No bad things will happen to us anymore."  
  
"Will the bad dreams go away too?" Maggie asks softly.  
  
Fitz shakes his head. "No," he says honestly. "They won't just stop. But," he adds and puts an arm around her. "It's important to have people who are there for you. Who can catch you. Then the nightmares are not so bad."  
  
Maggie looks at him and nods understandingly. "You have us. Me and Mummy."  
  
Fitz nods and taps a finger against her nose. "Exactly. And we, your mum and me, we are here for _you_. We will always be there when you need us."  
  
Maggie cuddles closer to him and says, "I'll stay here and protect you from the bad dreams, Dad." The next moment she yawns.  
  
Fitz smiles. "Oh monkey. I love you."  
  
"Love you too," Maggie mumbles sleepily.  
  
Soon she starts to breathe evenly and Fitz knows she has fallen asleep. He looks at her calm face. His heart fills with love for her. The love drives away the bad thoughts and memories of the nightmare. It fills him with happiness and the knowledge that their future is bright.


	9. I'm Sorry (Fitz-centric, all seasons)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 times Fitz apologizes to someone and 1 time someone apologizes to him. (Fitz-centric, all seasons)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen ... I'm sorry O_o  
> Tw warning for the plus 1 thing at the end: Character Death (Season 5 Finale compliant, but hopeful ending)

"I'm sorry," Leo says, watching his mother throwing the clothes his father left in the flat into a box.  
  
She turns to him and he sees that she has cried again. Her eyes are red and still slightly wet. "What are you sorry for, honey?" She asks hoarsely, smiling faintly.  
  
"It's my fault.  He wouldn't have left if I wasn't such a disappointment," Leo explains. "He told me so." He lowers his head, swallowing.  It hurts when he thinks of his father's words. But if they weren't true, he wouldn't have said them, right?  
  
His mother gasps. She quickly kneels in front of him, pulling him into a hug. "Oh darling," she says in a trembling voice.  "Don't do this.  Never blame yourself.  He left because he didn't appreciate what he had.  He didn't appreciate his wonderful, special, smart, kind-hearted son.  He's not worth any bad thoughts or pain.  We are strong enough together. We're a good team. We can do this, alright?"  
  
Leo hesitantly nods and she gives him a gentle kiss on the head.  
  
And he wants to believe her. He really does.  
  
But deep in his heart is a nagging doubt that will never quite go away.

  
*

Jemma is beautiful.  She radiates a natural elegance as she approaches him in her blue dress.  
  
She smiles at him. "Do you want to dance?"  
  
Fitz can't find words. So he just takes her hand and lets her lead him.  
  
They move slowly between the other couples, to calm music.  
  
Of course, although it's easy to imagine otherwise, they are only there as friends.  
  
On a lazy Sunday afternoon Jemma almost casually asked Fitz if he would go to Prom with her. "There's nobody else I would want to spend this important but quite tedious event with", she said, smiling brightly. But then she politely asked him if he already had a date. Fitz almost laughed. _As if_ ..., he thought.  He just shook his head. "Wonderful!" Jemma called and hurried off. Fitz looked after her with a strange mixture of happiness and bitterness in his heart.  
  
Now his eyes are hanging on her lips, which are curled into a gentle smile.  
  
Today he's glad that she isn't able to read his thoughts. What would it destroy if she knew ... In any case, he's not even sure about his feelings. So why destroy a wonderful, unexpected friendship for a vague hint of possible infatuation?  
  
Deep in thought, he eventually steps on her toes and she makes a startled sound.  
  
"Sorry," Fitz says hastily, blushing.  
  
But Jemma laughs and pulls him a little closer.  
  
Suddenly a quiet hope starts to burn in his heart that both excites and scares him.

  
*

Fitz looks at the water running slowly from the wall.  Thin dark streaks on bright blue.  
  
Jemma follows his gaze, biting her lip.  
  
"I'm sorry," Fitz finally says tonelessly.  
  
Jemma looks from the wall to the glass shards on the floor.  She swallows. "It's okay, Fitz," she says softly.  "It's okay to be angry."  
  
Fitz closes his eyes and sighs. He presses a hand against his forehead, gritting his teeth.   
  
It's _not_ okay ...  
  
It's not okay that he threw the glass against the wall just because again he didn't manage to drink from it without tipping water over himself.  
  
It's not okay ...  
  
"Fitz," Jemma gently says beside him.  
  
She's so careful around him these days.  
  
Everyone is careful.  They treat him like ... yes, like fragile glass.  
  
His lips twist into a bitter smile.  
  
Maybe he's broken already. Laying in shards on the bottom of his useless mind.  
  
When he realizes that tears are running down his face, Jemma has already started to clean up the shards.  


Fitz wonders if she doesn't look him in the eye anymore, because she knows about his feelings now. Or can she not bear to see the despair in them when he doesn't find the words, when his hands don't obey him, when it becomes visible how damaged he is now?  
  
He doesn't know for sure.  
  
But it doesn't matter anyway.  Not anymore.  
  
He closes his eyes, fading the world out.  
  
  
The next day Jemma is gone.

  
*

"Never do that again," May says firmly.  
  
"I'm sorry," Fitz says, avoiding her gaze.  
  
May shakes her head.  "You can't just leave.  Just sneak away in the night.  What about Simmons?  Do you want her to get sick with worry?"  
  
Fitz swallows.  Tears are burning in his eyes.  His hand grips the handle of his suitcase firmly.  "You don't understand," he says almost desperately.  "I almost killed her."  
  
"That wasn't you," May says matter-of-factly.  
  
"Yes, it was me," Fitz replies, gritting his teeth.  "Everyone ... you, Coulson, Mack, you all came to you at some point and wanted to leave the Framework. But not me.  I did terrible things.  And I would have gone on, if I were given the chance."  
  
May sighs. "But what are you expecting to achieve from running away?Running away never helps. There are people who care about you.  We will go through this together.  As we always do."  
  
"I don't know if that's a good idea," Fitz mumbles.  
  
May looks at him for a moment, frowning.  Then she takes the suitcase away from him and walks ahead with firm, long steps.  "Come on now.  Coulson knows a good diner and I really need a good cup of coffee and a proper piece of cake now.  Exactly like you."  
  
Fitz sighs.  
  
He follows her, his heart heavy and full of doubts.  


  
*

Daisy looks at him. Her eyes are an unexpected mirror of his own feelings. Anger, fear and doubt. A chaotic mixture.  
  
She bites her lip, crossing her arms in front of her chest in a defensive gesture. "So," she says. It sounds painstakingly controlled. "You want to stay in here. On your own free will."  
  
"Yes," Fitz says. He gets up from the bed and walks towards Daisy. He stops in front of the glass that is separating them both. A barrier that not only exists physically.  
  
This fact hurts.  
  
The memories of a past, in which this scenario would have seemed like an absurd, terrifying nightmare, are bright and clear, hidden in a special part of his memory. Once they were as close as siblings. That's the way it felt. He once held her when everyone else wanted to push her away. When everything changed. He remembers her fear. The despair in her eyes. And her warmth as he pulled her into his arms.  
  
There is no warmth between them now. Only the cold of regret.  
  
"I don't want you to be scared," Fitz says. "This way you don't need to worry about me."  
  
"Good," Daisy replies hard. Then a shadow flits over her eyes.  She looks him over and finally sighs. "Fitz ... I understand, or rather, I _want_ to understand that you are not fine.  And damn, you've been through a lot of crap, I know. It changed you. I know change. I know it well.  But ... I don't know if I can forgive you for this.  I thought ... I thought we were a family.  I never wanted us to break apart.  But I can't stop feeling that anger in me." She takes a deep breath.  "I want you to get help.  Because you obviously need it.  And when we're safe, when this mess is over, I'll make sure you get it.  But ... I think I can no longer accept you as part of my family.  Not now, not later and maybe never again."  
  
Fitz nods.  He isn't surprised.  There's a dull hint of sadness in him. "I understand," he says sincerely. "And I'll accept every choice you make."   
  
Daisy swallows.  Then she quickly turns around.  "I have to go.  I ... I sent Jemma. You shouldn't be alone. You should talk to someone. Goodbye Fitz." She walks a few slow steps forward, seemingly exhausted.  
  
"Daisy," Fitz says softly.  
  
She stops.  But she doesn't turn around.  
  
"I'm sorry," Fitz says.  
  
It's silent for a moment. Then Daisy says barely audible, "I know.  And that makes it worse."  
  
She leaves.  
  
She leaves and what remains is cold emptiness.  
  
Fitz sits back on the bed and silently mourns their friendship.

  
*

"I'm sorry," Mack says.  
  
"I am sorry. God I'm sorry."  
  
He holds Fitz's lifeless hand in both hands and weeps.  
  
Time stands still and yet it goes on around him indifferently.  
  
The world is still there. It's still there and as cruelly merciless as ever.  
  
There is no room for relief in his heart.  
  
There is only pain, guilt and grief. A mixture that overwhelms him. That lets him fall endlessly.  
  
He has just lost his best friend.

He helplessly watched him die, watched him bleeding out while he still wanted to make sure that other people were safe.  


_This isn't fair_ , Mack thinks. _He got married. He ... he deserved to be happy after all he has been through. He deserved the chance to heal. This isn't fair._

But it still happened. It still happened because this is life, this is reality, and it doesn't care about painful stories which are supposed to have a happy ending. 

Mack looks at Fitz's still face and gasps as his heart fills with so much searing pain that it seems to tear him apart.   
  
"I'm sorry," he whispers and puts a gentle kiss on Fitz's dusty, blood-stained forehead. "I am so sorry."

  
The words fade away unheard.

 

A few weeks later, he says them again. "I'm sorry."

Fitz, a mug of hot tea in his hands and a blanket over his shoulders, looks up at him, surprised. "For what?"

Mack sits down beside him and says, "For leaving you alone."

And while they're on their way home, while they are crossing the galaxy again, there are many words shared between them. Not a single one gets lost. 


	10. Look Into The Future (Post s5 Finale, Fitzsimmons)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They want to know again, what it is like to be happy. (Post s5 Finale, Fitzsimmons)

They're packing their suitcases in silence.  
  
Not for the first time.  
  
Jemma involuntarily remembers back.  Remembers a time when they were walking right into the adventure in front of them with excited smiles on their oh so young faces.  
The smile has disappeared.  It has given way to a never-ending tiredness that  makes it hard to see something good, something hopeful in all this mess.  
  
She suddenly feels overwhelmed and sinks down on the bed slowly.  
  
What happened?  
The answer is: too much.  
  
They have seen the world.  
The universe.  
Other planets.  
Incredible things.  
Actually it's a miracle.  
  
But the miracle is overshadowed by all those horrible things that have happened to them.  
They are used to too much desperation, fear and resignation.  
Life gnawed at them and didn't leave much left of their souls.  
Now they have to fix themselves.  
  
Jemma sighs.  
  
Fitz looks at her questioningly.  
"What are you thinking about?" He asks her softly.  
  
She smiles faintly.  
"About easier times."  
  
Fitz nods slowly.  He swallows and looks down at the neatly folded shirt he's holding in his hands.  He was just about to put it in the suitcase.  
"Are you sure about this?" He asks quietly without looking at Jemma.  
  
"Yes," she replies without a moment of hesiation. "I'm sure."

  
It's time for them to leave.  


*

The first night is almost sleepless.

They lie side by side on their backs, their breath the only sound in this strange room in the cottage that belongs them now.

Jemma tries to feel optimistic about their future.  
She really does.  
But she can't help feeling scared. Worried.  
There's always a What if.  
What if their love is too damaged.  
What if another misery is awaiting them.  
What if.

She struggles in vain, feeling that she's losing the silent battle with her emotions.

At some point she can't hold back the tears anymore.  
They start to run over her face, soaking the pillow.  
She sobs stifled, pressing a trembling hand over her mouth.

"Jemma," Fitz whispers next to her in a broken voice.  
He shifts and the mattress creaks under him.  
The next moment his arms are around her. He pulls her close to him cautiously and Jemma can't hold back anymore. She presses her face against his chest and cries openly.

Fitz holds her tight.

When the tears finally stop, he asks softly, "What do you need, Jemma?"

She inhales his familiar scent, feels his comforting warmth and whispers, "I need you. I need us. I want to be happy. I want to know again what it feels like to be happy."

"Oh, Jemma," Fitz says, his voice trembling. "I want that too …"

They don't let go until sleep eventually overcomes them.  
And even then their hands find each other. They intertwine tightly. Holding on to each other like to an anchor.

*  


It's the little things that gradually give them hope and make life brighter.

The first sleepy smile in the morning.

A cup of tea, made with love and care.

Tender kisses.

Warm hugs.

Cuddling in bed before falling asleep.

Holding hands.

Or just talking for hours.

They approach each other slowly but steadily.  
They walk towards each other on an invisible bridge that is stable and patient.

Some days are more difficult than others.  
Some days are dark and hopeless.  
There are demons hiding in the shadows of their minds.  
And sometimes they come out, threatening to overwhelm them.

But together they always bring light back into the dark.  
Together, they manage to push the demons back into the shadows.

Autumn is starting and their love is taking another step towards the future.

"Marry me, Jemma," Fitz says, kneeling in the high grass as the wind makes colorful leaves rain down on them.

"Yes," she breathes. "Oh God, yes ..."

*

"I want to see my mother," Fitz says on a rainy Sunday afternoon, while they're planning their very small wedding.  
  
Jemma looks at him and nods in surprise.  "Okay."  
  
It doesn't take them long to find the flat.  
They stand in front of the door and Jemma gives Fitz an encouraging smile.  
He swallows and raises a hand to knock, then drops it again.  Suddenly, he seems to be scared. In his eyes lies uncertainty and worry.  
  
Jemma puts a hand on his shoulder and whispers, "Don't be scared, love."  
  
Fitz closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath.  
Then he finally knocks.  Once.  Twice.  
  
They wait.  
  
Steps can be heard from the inside. The door opens slowly and then Fitz's mother Diane is standing there, frowning.  
She looks at them, her breath faltering and her eyes widening in surprise.  "Leo?  What …"  
  
She isn't able to finish her question.  
  
Fitz crosses the distance between them and hugs her tightly.    
"Mum," he breathes. "Mum ..."

She takes a trembling breath and her eyes fill with tears.  
"My boy," she whispers, her hands roaming over his back. "I'm so glad you're here."  
  
"Me too," he says barely audible.  
  
Jemma watches them, smiling.  
  
~  
  
"Well," Diane says, after she has put two steaming mugs of tea in front of them and sank into the chair opposite the couch, where Fitz and Jemma sit close together, holding hands.  "Did S.H.I.E.L.D. finally give you a well deserved vacation?  They seem to be very sparing with that.  But after all, your work helps saving the world," she says with a warm smile, open proud in her eyes.

Fitz and Jemma share a quick look.  
They didn't talk about what they were going to tell Fitz's mother.  
But they sense what would be too much, what would be unbearable.  
That Fitz died, buried under debris, while another version of himself was sleeping frozen in space was something that she would never learn about.  
Because, Jemma thinks sadly, it would cause so much unnecessary pain to this wonderful, loving woman.  
  
"Actually, we left S.H.I.E.L.D. ," she finally says softly to Diane, squeezing Fitz's hand.  


Diane raises her eyebrows in surprise.  
"Really?  Why?"   
  
Jemma swallows and searches for the right words.  
"It's ... This life is too dangerous.  Too unpredictable.  We want to rest for a while. Starting a new life together," she finally explains.  "We'll marry soon," she adds after a moment and smiles.  
  
Diane's eyes widen, filling with a bright gleam of suprised happiness.  
"That is wonderful.  I'm so happy for you," she says breathlessly, standing up, hugging them both.

"To be honest, I was quite worried after you didn't call me for a long time. But I always reminded myself how important your work is. And what it means to work for such a secretly operating organisation," she says seriously. 

"I'm sorry, mum," Fitz says softly and there are tears in his eyes again. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you what was going on. I shouldn't have ... I should have talked to you more often."

Diane shakes her head. She lays a hand on Fitz's cheek and he leans into the touch. "It's alright," she tells him. "You're here now. That's what matters." She adds, looking at them both, smiling warmly, "Don't think too much about the past. Don't think too much about what might have been. Look into the future. Sometimes an adventure has to stop so we can start a new one."   
  
Her words couldn't have been more matching.  
  
They fill Jemma's heart with a warm hope and she nods. "We will," she says, squeezing Fitz's hand lightly. "We will look into the future."  
  
*  
  
In spring, life gives them a long-awaited yet surprising gift.  
  
"I'm pregnant," Jemma says.   
  
"Are you sure?" Fitz asks breathlessly.  
  
Jemma nods.  
  
They look at each other and their eyes fill with tears.  
Tears of joy.  
  
Fitz pulls her close and covers her face with kisses.  
"Oh, Jemma," he whispers.  "This is wonderful …"  
  
"Yes," she breathes. "Yes it is."  
  
They hold on tight and for a moment they need no words.  
  
"I'm happy," Jemma finally says softly.  
  
Fitz runs a hand through her hair and whispers, "Me too.  I'm happy too."  
  
They know it again.  
What it's like to be happy.


	11. The Calm Of The Ocean (Post s5 Finale, Fitz & Deke)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deke wants to see the ocean. Fitz takes him there. (Post s5 Finale, Fitz & Deke)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short story was inspired by @BrusselsSprout's absolutely marvelous story [Fixing The Cracks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737137/chapters/34067949), where Jemma tells Daisy that Deke wanted to see the ocean :)
> 
> A picture that inspired me: [Scotland](https://www.seabridge-tours.de/assets/images/tours/schottland/Schottland%20-%20Meer.jpg)

“It’s beautiful,” Deke says breathlessly.  
  
“Yes,” Fitz agrees quietly.  
  
They stand on the beach side by side.  
In front of them lies the seemingly endless ocean.  
  
The water is calm on this Sunday in late summer.  
Only now and then a mild breeze ruffles the surface.  
The water shimmers in a mild light blue.  
The waves that hit the beach are slow and sluggish.  
The calm rushing of the ocean is accompanied by the cries of a few gulls, circling above them.  
  
“It looks so endless,” Deke says in awe. "Endlessly far and endlessly deep.“  
  
Fitz just nods. He sinks down on the warm sand with a sigh and strips off his shoes.  
He watches as Deke walks the few steps to the water, his eyes sparkling in open excitement.  
  
Involuntarily Fitz feels a touch of affection for his grandson.  
Watching Deke discovering everything for the first time, rejoicing over little things that other people - including Fitz - take for granted, is both heart-warming and slightly sad.  
  
When Jemma had told him that Deke had talked about how much he wanted to see the ocean, it was more of a spontaneous idea of Fitz to take him there.  
Jemma had been obviously surprised.  
  
Fitz knows why.  
And it hurts.

Deke holds his breath as a small wave approaches him. He takes another step forward and lets the water run over his bare toes. Fascinated, he watches as it slowly retreats after a short moment.  
"The water isn’t cold at all,” he says excitedly, glancing at Fitz over his shoulder. “Try it yourself!”

“No,” Fitz says hastily, shaking his head. He shudders involuntarily. "The ocean is great, really - as long as I’m not in it.“  
  
"Oh.” Deke understands quickly. He doesn’t say anything else about it. Instead, he goes a few steps deeper into the water until it reaches his knees.  
“I can’t swim,” he says almost casually. But it sounds slightly bitter. "Of course not. You don’t need swimming lessons in space.“ 

"Hmm. It's quite easy to learn. I'm sure Jemma or Mack can teach you sometime," Fitz says. He takes a handful of sand and watches the fine grains trickling through his fingers.  
  
"Yes." Deke nods eagerly. "I really would like to learn it. I mean ... there's a whole other world hidden there in the water, right? I want to see it all. I want to see the corals. And fish. And sharks. And …"

His list goes on and on.  
  
Fitz smiles mildly.  
He slowly paints even circles in the sand with one finger.  
Being here with Deke is good.  
It feels nice.  
  
When he raises his head, he sees Deke scooping some of the seawater into his hands and drink it carefully, only to spit it out horrified.  
  
Fitz frowns, but he feels an amused joy at the sight in front of him.  
  
But then, while he's watching Deke, he involuntarily remembers Jemma's words.  
_You couldn't stand him. From the first second._  
  
His joy disappears surprisingly quick and gives way to a bitter sadness mixed with guilt.  
  
_I've been a total arsehole_ , Fitz thinks stunned. _I met my own grandson and couldn't help but treat him like dirt? Great. Just great._  
  
It doesn't help much that Jemma also told him how much he had been under pressure. How he struggled to control an invisible enemy in his own mind while saving the world.  
  
_That's no excuse_ , Fitz thinks dully.  
  
It doesn't excuse how he treated Deke. Or what he did to Daisy.  
  
He presses a fist against his forehead and closes his eyes. Maybe he should really have left after the Framework disaster. Should have gone far away. Maybe he could have prevented what happened. But now it's too late. The worst and most absurd thing is that he doesn't remember, while everyone else around him does.  
Deke remembers the hurtful words. Daisy remembers the pain. The betrayal.  
  
How can he ever make amends?  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Fitz flinches and looks up.  
Deke stands in front of him, a slightly worried look on his face.

"Yeah ... I was just thinking," Fitz says evasively.  
  
Deke shakes his head. "You do that way too much, you know," he says dryly. "Thinking. Collecting all the thoughts inside your mind and never let them out. Does it even help?"  
  
Fitz has no answer to that. He shrugs.  
  
Deke sighs. He falls into the sand next to Fitz and says, "Why don't you talk to me?"  
  
Fitz looks at him in surprise. But then he shakes his head. "You don't want to hear that," he says softly. "All the gloomy thoughts are better off in my own head than in yours. I'm used to it anyway."  
  
Deke shakes his head. "I am here and I care about you. You should always talk to the people that care about you. You are never a burden to them. You should never be afraid to share your pain or your fear with them. Because those people can make you stronger by taking part of the fear and replacing it with courage and hope. That's something my mother taught me."  
  
Fitz swallows. _My mother_ ... Dekes mother is his daughter. The thought is strange, but it fills his heart with a peculiar warmth.  
"Your mother ... did she talk a lot about me?" He asks carefully.  
  
Deke smiles lost in thought. "All the time. You were her hero."  
  
"For real?"  
  
"Yeah." Deke swallows and runs his fingers through the sand. "I miss her."  
  
_Me too_ , Fitz thinks. _Although I don't know her. Although there's no image of her in my head. I miss her just because I know she existed and I was her hero._  
  
Deke looks at him openly. "So ... do you want to share your thoughts with me?"  
  
Fitz hesitates for a moment. He looks at the still ocean in front of them.  
Then he says softly, "I'm just so sorry. All the things that happened ... I wish I could undo them. I seem to have some talent for making the wrong decisions. Decisions that hurt people that are important to me. What if it happens again? I'm scared of it. Now that I know what could happen. How bad it could be." He falls silent, haunted by the images in his head. Images of things that didn't happen but could. It's impossible to describe them. But he feels them. And they make it hard for him to breathe.  
  
Deke nods. He frowns thoughtfully.  
"The past is gone," he finally says. "It won't come back. You can't reverse your old mistakes. But you can decide what happens to the future. You have already made a decision. You have left S.H.I.E.L.D. and you came here with the intention of processing the things you and Nana have experienced. You even made an appointment with a therapist. These are all brave steps and I think they are leading you in the right direction."  
  
He pauses for a moment. As he continues, he looks at Fitz with warmth and confidence in his eyes.

"You know, my mother used to talk about how warm and kind you are. How compassionate and ... and just _good_. She talked about how you helped other people. How you did everything to protect your family. You are a good person to whom bad things have happened. Really bad things. But Nana and you ... together you are stronger than that. I just know that. As my mother knew."  
  
Fitz swallows hard. He feels gratitude and something like hope.  
The dark images in his head are pushed back by these sensations and he can breathe again.  
"Thanks, Deke," he says softly.  
  
Deke just nods, smiling slightly.  
  
For a moment they sit there in comfortable silence.  
  
Then Fitz says honestly, "I'm glad you're still here."  
  
Deke throws him a slightly surprised side glance. He swallows and looks aside as he whispers, "Me too."  
  
For a few minutes, they only look silently at the ocean. The water reflects the changing colors of the sky. The approaching sunset dispels the blues and bring a bright pink in the play of colors.  
  
"What happens now?" Deke asks at some point.  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Fitz replies, frowning.  
  
Deke takes a deep breath. "Well ... What do I do now? Now that the world is not going to be destroyed any longer and I obviously won't disappear ... where is my place?"  
  
Fitz's heart aches as he starts to understand. As he perceives the slight fear in Dekes voice. The fear of change. He knows it well.  
  
He wants to take it from Deke, the way Deke took his despair.  
So he puts a hand on his grandson's shoulder, squeezes lightly and says, "You're family. So of course you stay with us. Here in Scotland."  
  
And it's true. So true. Deke is family. That he is here is a strange miracle. But it doesn't make him less Fitz's own flesh and blood. Deke is his responsibility now.  
  
Deke looks at him, his eyes slightly wet and his smile hopeful. "For real?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Deke lets out a faint noise that sounds like a suppressed sob. Suddenly there are tears on his face.  
  
"Are you okay?" Fitz asks, slightly worried.  
  
Deke nods and wipes his face hastily. "It's just ... I ... it's great to have a family. Really great."  
  
Fitz smiles. He leaves his hand on Deke's shoulder and they watch the sun go down.  
  
Eventually, Fitz clears his throat.  
"And Deke?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You can call me Gramps whenever you want."


	12. What's a Star Wars? (Post s5, Fitzsimmons Family)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deke has a lot to catch up with. Fitz helps him. They have pizza and Star Wars marathons ... (Post s5, Fitzsimmons Family)

They find happiness in the little things of everyday life.

In secluded calmness, in their cottage in Perthshire, where their strange little family has settled.

Most of the time it starts with a question, asked by Deke who is on a never-ending mission: discovering the world.

*

On a Saturday in summer Deke asks, "What's pizza?"

Fitz shakes his head in speechless disbelief and reaches for his phone.

An hour later, he and Jemma watch curiously, as Deke slowly and carefully eats his first slice of pizza.  The expression on his face is surprise for a moment - then nothing but pure bliss.  
When the slice has disappeared, Deke licks each finger individually.  
Finally he reaches for the next one with a contented sigh.

When Deke finished his pizza, he leans back on the couch, burps and says softly, "Wow."

Jemma suppresses a laugh.  
Fitz asks grinning, "Good?"

"Good?!  Good doesn't even begin to describe this miracle.  It's fantastic! Marvelous! Breathtaking!" Deke exclaims effusively.   
He squints at the box in front of Fitz, where there are still some slices of pizza left.  


Fitz notices, pushing the box over to Deke with a sigh.  "Take it."

Deke beams.  "From now on, I will only eat pizza," he tells them seriously.

But one day later he discovers "real" hamburgers.

*

"What's a _Star Wars_?" Deke asks Fitz, who is setting up a bookshelf together with Jemma.  Fitz makes a disbelieving noise and almost drops the hammer.  
He turns to Deke and asks in a dumbfounded voice, "You don't know _Star Wars_?!"

"Gramps, I'm from a time where aliens have abolished television, remember?" Deke asks dryly.

Fitz rubs his neck.  
"Ah. Sorry ... Well, that's a gap you _absolutely_   have to catch up on."

"Absolutely," Jemma mumbles next to him.  It sounds a bit sarcastic.  Deke frowns.

"I'll borrow the movies when I'm in town," Fitz says.  "We'll do a movie marathon.  With pizza.  And beer.  Or, uh, Zima."

"Cool," Deke says, smiling eagerly.

Later, they're sitting on the couch, watching the first part of the saga.

"This Jar Jar Binks guy seems to be quite an idiot," Deke snorts, taking a sip of his Zima.

"Hey," Fitz says, giving him an offended look.  "Leave Jar Jar alone.  He may be a bit clumsy and not too smart, but he's a good guy, alright?  Helpful and loyal.  And yeah, he's different from the others, but in the end he makes it quite far. He's just as much a hero as the other characters in the movie."

Deke frowns doubtfully, but he doesn't say anything else insulting about the weird red giant, who's obviously some kind of alien.  
He likes the movies, although sometimes they sometimes remind him almost unpleasantly of his life in space.  Of violence and the feeling of hopelessness.  But he knows that's over now.  From now on, he will see space only in books or on television while enjoying all the wonderful things earth has to offer.  That seems to be a fair deal for him ...

When they finally come to the scene where Han Solo is frozen, when Leia says "I love you" and Han replies "I know" - Fitz suddenly snorts and almost spits his beer over himself. He starts to giggle.

Deke stares at him in surprise.  "What ... am I supposed to laugh too?  Is there something funny about this scene?"

"No ... just ... uh, Hunter and me ... Before I froze myself, we exchanged exactly those words," Fitz explains.

"Oh.  Hunter ... do I know Hunter?" Deke asks.

"No.  Not yet.  But you will.  We're going to invite him and Bobbi to barbecue next week," Fitz says.

"Barbecue?" Deke asks confused.

Fitz shakes his head, sighing resignedly.  
But he's smiling.

*

"Why are you crying?" Deke asks Fitz and Jemma anxiously, watching them holding each other tightly. "And why ... why are you laughing while you're crying?!"   


Jemma breaks away from Fitz and goes to Deke.  She puts a hand on his cheek.  
"I'm pregnant," she says and smiles.

"Oh." Deke's eyes widen.  He looks at Jemma's stomach, swallowing .  "Oh!"

"Yes," Jemma laughs.

"Wow," Deke says breathlessly, shaking his head.  "I ... wow.  That's great!"

Deep in him stirs careful hope.  
Maybe ... maybe it's really happening now.  
Maybe he will finally see _her_ again.  
Well, it's ... it will be weird.  More than weird.  But ... he doesn't care.  All that matters is seeing her again.

Some time later, Jemma says, "It's a boy."

Deke swallows.  
He nods and forces an eager smile on his face.

_Oh._

*

Fitz finds Deke in the garden, where he was supposed to pick tomatoes.  But instead, his grandson is sitting in the grass in front of the plants, weeping.

"Deke?" Fitz asks, confused and worried.  "What's wrong?"

Deke looks at him startled and shakes his head.  He quickly wipes the tears from his face.  
"Nothing.  I ... it's nothing. I'm fine."

Fitz frowns.  
"Don't do that.  We should always be honest with each other.  You don't have to pretend that everything is alright.  If something worries you, tell me.  We are Family. Family means being there for each other. Always."

Deke swallows.  
"Okay ... I ... I'm missing my mother.  I miss her so much that it hurts.  And I thought I would see her again ... I thought ..." He can't continue talking.  The tears take away his words.  He sobs.

Fitz looks at him and understands.  
"It's because of the baby.  You thought Jemma is getting a girl.  And that the girl is ... Oh, Deke.  I'm so sorry.  But I don't think …"

"It wouldn't have been possible. Because of the changes in the timeline.  I actually know," Deke says and sighs.  "I just ... I always had hoped for it nevertheless."

"I understand," Fitz says softly.  He sits down in the grass next to Deke and puts a hand on his shoulder.  "She must have been a wonderful person.  I wish I had met her."

"She was the best," Deke says quietly.

"Hmm. I'm sure she would be incredibly proud of you," Fitz says, clearing his throat. "Deke, I want you to know I'm incredibly happy you're here. You are an important part of our lives and you will always be.  When the baby's there, I know you will be a wonderful uncle.  Well, even if technically you are not quite the uncle, um ..."

"It's all one huge, strange mess," Deke says drily.

Fitz nods, sighing sadly.  "Yeah.  It really is."

Deke looks at him, smiling weakly. "But I'm glad to be here. And I will be a great uncle. I will do my best. And by the way ... _you_ are a great grandfather.  You've been showing me so many things since we got here, thanks for that. And thanks for spending time with me. It feels great to have a real family."

They look at each other smiling, somehow knowing that this is only the beginning.  
Their family is about to grow.  
Their happiness is about to be enriched by something marvelous.  


And the future is a bright, wonderful promise in front of them. 


	13. Tea, animal facts and strawberry lollies (Post s5, Fitzsimmons Family)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz is sick. He's stuck in the cottage, with Deke of all people ... (Post s5, Fitzsimmons Family)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a silly something.  
> I guess one of the websites Deke was looking up for his animal facts must have been this one ;)  
> https://bestlifeonline.com/animal-facts/

“Did you know that Axolotls can regenerate their body parts?” Deke mumbles around three strawberry lollies in his mouth, staring at the tablet in his hands with wide open eyes. “Wow. They can regenerate limbs, skin, tail, jaws, and even their spines. That’s awesome!”

Fitz rolls his eyes.    
“No,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know that.”

Deke hums distractedly, already finding another fact, making him gasp in amazement.  
“And frogs can freeze without dying. Awesome!”  
  
Awesome has to be Deke’s most used word.  
Everything’s around him is awesome for him.  
The ocean and the beach. The green hills and the silver rivers.  
The stars at the night sky.  
The dew on the plants in the morning and the animals, appearing on the meadow in front of their cottage in Perthshire in the twilight.  
Even the cockroaches living in their cellar and the spiders building their nets everywhere.  
Deke looks at it all and whispers, “Awesome …”

On this Saturday afternoon in late spring, Deke is focused on facts about all kind of animals, which he generously shares with Fitz, who can barely concentrate, because he’s sick. A heavy cold confines him to bed, making every breath and movement painful.

And of course he’s stuck in the cottage, with Deke of all people.  

Jemma is gone since morning.  
She’s in town with Daisy and Yo-Yo, searching for a wedding gown.

Fitz’s heart always beats faster when he remembers the wedding.  
The proper wedding.  
The one, that he will actually experience, instead watching it on a smartphone …

He sighs, when Deke laughs loudly about a funny fact. The noise makes his head throb in angry pain.

It’s really not that Fitz doesn’t like Deke …  
In fact he’s quite fond of the way his grandson (it still feels incredibly strange to think of Deke as his grandson. But it’s real. Somehow it’s real …) is discovering the world around him. He's a quick learner. Determined to catch up with everything he missed.  
But an overly excited, loud Deke is not exactly the company Fitz needs when he’s sick and feels miserable.  
He just wished he was alone.

He needs to sleep.  
Needs to overcome this horrible cold as quick as possible, so that he can continue planning the wedding. 

“Deke,” he murmurs hoarsely. “Deke, can you … could you please leave me alone for a while? I need … need to …” He sneezes heftily, all words forgotten as his head feels like it’s exploding. He groans helplessly.

“No, no. Grandma told me to look after you. And that’s exactly what I will do. Looking after you,” Deke says seriously.

Fitz doesn’t understand why looking after him includes driving him insane with animal facts, but he gives up with a resigned sigh, closing his eyes again.

Suddenly, a violent coughing fit shakes him.  
His lungs are burning and there’s a pounding pain in his temples.  
It doesn’t stop and he rolls on his side, helplessly pressing his hands against his chest.  
When it finally stops, he’s hanging over the bed edge, breathless and whimpering in pain.

“Gramps?” Deke’s voice sounds actually worried.

“It’s nothing,” Fitz wheezes, trying to catch his breath. “I’m …”

He startles slightly, when Deke’s hand – cool, so cool … - is suddenly on his forehead.  
“You feel really hot,” Deke states. “I know how this is called … You have a fever!”  
He almost sounds triumphantly to know this word.

“Yeah,” Fitz says, recoiling from Deke, leaning back against the pillows again, his face sweaty and his eyes watery. “No shit Sherlock.”

Deke stares at him, frowning.  
“You really don’t look good,” he says.

“Really?” Fitz asks sarcastically.

“Yes. In fact you look utterly awful,” Deke explains, completely missing that Fitz was being ironic.

Fitz sighs, pulling his blanket up until only his eyes are visible. He coughs again and groans in pain.

Deke looks down at him, suddenly seeming unsure.  
He clears his throat.  
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” He finally asks hesitantly. “I mean … we haven’t had something like colds in space for some reason – I guess the blue dictators did something to prevent such sicknesses – but I can try?”

Fitz weakly shakes his head.   
“Just … just let me sleep,” he mumbles.

“Okay,” Deke says uncertainly. He looks down at the tablet in his hand, his eyes lightening up when he has an idea. “I’m downstairs,” he tells Fitz, who is already half asleep, and leaves the room silently.

*

Fitz wakes up to the feeling of fresh air on his face and the smell of herbs.

He blinks, carefully turning his head, to see Deke, who’s sitting in his chair beside the bed again, smiling brightly.  
“Hey Gramps. I opened the window, because I read that fresh air is good for sick people. And … here.”  
He hands Fitz a steaming mug.

“You … you made me tea,” Fitz states in surprise.

“Yes,” Deke says. “I put honey in it, I read that it’s good for your throat. And I made some chicken soup. At least, um, I tried. It’s a bit salty, but still tasty! And if you want to, I can run you a bath. I read that’s helpful too.”

“Thank you,” Fitz breathes, feeling moved by Deke’s effort.

Deke smiles, scratching his neck.  
Suddenly, his eyes brighten up.  
He rummages around in his trousers pocket, finally pulling another strawberry lolly out. “This is the last one left,” Deke says, staring at it. “Here.” And he hands it to Fitz, with a slightly sad expression in his eyes.

But Fitz hastily shakes his head.  
“Thanks. You can have it. I rather have the tea. That’s enough.”

Deke smiles brightly.  
“Thanks Gramps!”  
He solemnly unwraps the candy and quickly puts it in his mouth, with a satisfied sigh.

Fitz supresses a laugh. It would only hurt his sore throat.  
He takes a sip from the tea Deke made him.  
It tastes good.  
And the feeling of the warm liquid running down his throat is the most pleasant feeling he had all day.  
“Thanks Deke,” he says again.

Deke just nods, sucking his lolly and looking very pleased with himself.

Fitz thinks for a moment, then grinning slightly smug.  
“Deke.”

“Yeah?”

“You do know, that a cold is contagious, don’t you?”

“What does contagious mean?”

“Well. It means that when I’m sick, and you’re here, breathing the same air, you can get sick too.”

“Wait. I can get sick like you? From being around you?!”

“Yes.”

“Bye Gramps. I’m downstairs. Call if you need me.”

Fitz grins, drinking his tea, watching Deke fleeing hastily while mumbling angrily to himself.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe it actually isn’t that bad to be not alone.


	14. Family (Deke & Fitz)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deke meets his great-grandfather Alistair for the first time. He isn’t thrilled. (Deke & Fitz)

It’s a warm Sunday in August.  
Fitz and Deke are in Glasgow. They are searching for a birthday present for Jemma. They could have found one in a nearby village as well, but Fitz decided to do the longer trip to the city, because Deke has never been there and is already tired and bored of the life on the countryside in quiet, peaceful Perthshire. Deke was so thrilled about it that he hugged Fitz, while a pregnant Jemma chuckled in happy affection.

Now Fitz and Deke are wandering through the streets of the city lazily, eventually deciding to buy some ice cream.

Deke needs almost ten minutes to choose.    
Fitz watches in mild amusement, how he mumbles to himself about the possible pros and cons of every flavour, while tapping a finger against his chin, a expression of absolute concentration in his eyes. Behind them, the queue is getting longer and longer, and the ice cream vendor stares at Deke with growing desperation.

Finally, three flavours make it onto Deke’s shortlist and Fitz, suppressing a laughing fit, tells him, that he can have a scoop of all of them. The ice cream vendor makes a relieved sound.

“I never saw someone who took so long to order ice cream,” he tells Deke, shaking his head. “You almost brought the ice cream vendor to tears, you know?”

Deke happily licks his ice cream, his eyes sparkling in pleasure. He shrugs.  
“What can I do? There’s always the chance that I choose a flavour I don’t like, and then I will be angry or sad that I didn’t choose another one … How can _you_ be not overwhelmed by the amount of flavours?” He asks Fitz in wonder.

Fitz grins.  
“Well, I always choose banana,” he explains.

Deke blinks.  
“But there are so many different, amazing flavours,” he says, puzzled. “How can you always choose the same one?”

Fitz shrugs.  
“I like regularities. Always did. But …they are hard to find these days. So I like those little ones, I can control, like the choice of my ice cream, even more.”

Deke shakes his head.  
He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, a man runs into him, causing him to stumble and almost drop his ice cream. He makes a startled sound and hears a muttered apology.

Deke looks up, seeing a strange man, who falters in his steps, when he sees Fitz, his eyes widening slightly.

 “Leopold,” he says after a moment. “What a … nice coincidence. You've grown up.”  
The hint of a smile appears on his face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Fitz gasps.  
He makes a step back, before he straightens up, raising his chin slightly.  
“Alistair,” he says coldly.  

Deke looks back and forth between the two, confused.  
“Gramps?” He asks carefully.

Fitz clears his throat.  
“Deke. This is Alistair Fitz. My, um, father.”

_Oh._

Deke swallows.  
So this is his great-grandfather?  
Well, now that he looks closer, he can definitely see some similarities between his grandfather and the strange man.  
Like the eyes. Or the lineaments.

Deke doesn’t quite know what to think, feel or say.

Fitz never talks much about his father.  
Deke only knows some bits, and they are pretty upsetting.

He knows that Alistair left Fitz when he was ten.  
He also knows that he used to call Fitz worthless and stupid.  
Deke was startled and sad when he heard about this.  
And now, that he stands in front of the man, he feels an immediate hint of repugnance in his heart.

Alistair clears his throat.  
“Well. Why don’t we go have a coffee or something? Have a little chat?” He asks.

Fitz makes a disbelieving sound.  
He looks pale and there’s a pained expression in his eyes.  
“Are you serious?” He asks barely audible. His free hand clenches into a fist. In the other one he still has the ice cream, that slowly melts, completely forgotten.  
“Are you … what makes you think I would want to talk to you?”

Alistair frowns.  
“You’re my son. My flesh and blood. Of course you want to talk to me.”

Fitz snorts.  
“Oh. So, we just act like nothing happened? Like … like the things you did have no meaning anymore? You want to act like we’re a family, _now_?!”

Alistair looks disappointed now.  
“So you’re still living in the past? Look, I may have made some mistakes, but after all, we _are_ family. And it was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

Fitz now looks slightly sick.  

“Some mistakes?” He asks, his voice trembling. “Some … Okay. Listen. Since you're not even trying to understand, I will explain it to you once and for all. You’re an abuser. You didn’t just abandon me and mum, you also made me think I wasn’t good enough for you. You told me I’m stupid and worthless. Sometimes, when you were drunk enough for it, you told me that most likely, I'm not even your son. That I might as well be a child of an affair my mother secretly had. Do you know what that did to me? I dealt with the feeling of not being good enough for _years._ I was an insecure, shy loner, bullied by older students who sensed my low self-esteem ... It took me ages to develop some self-confidence!”

“Don’t tell me it was all my fault,” Alistair says coolly. “It was your mother’s. I told her not to coddle you. But she decided to let you have your little … quirks and taught you being a whiny, sentimental weakling. I was just trying to make a proper man out of you. Someone who’s respected by other’s. Someone who has success. But look at you,” he scoffs. “You’re too emotional, letting things of the past affect you. And if you would have grown up with me, you wouldn’t be that pathetic …”

Deke can’t believe his ears.  
A violent rush of sudden anger overwhelms him.  
How dare this man talking about his grandfather like this?

Enough ...

He steps in front of Fitz, who looks like he might throw up every moment now.

He glares at his great-grandfather and raises his chin.  
“Listen. Since you apparently don’t know who you’re talking to, I will clear things up for you. This is Fitz, and he is the best man I know. He’s has been protecting people since literally ages now, always giving everything he can and more, to make sure that everyone’s safe. He never gave up, he always stood up again, no matter how much he was hurt. He’s not weak. He’s kind and strong. _You_ are the weak one for abandoning him. That’s not what parents are supposed to do. That's not what family is supposed to mean. You failed.”

Fitz stares at his grandson, the expression on his face a mix of disbelief and wonder.

But Alistair glares at Deke in confused anger.  
“Who even are _you_?” He snarls. “Talking to me like this?”

Deke raises his chin even higher.  
“I’m his grandson.”

Alistair snorts, his eyes widening in disbelief.  
“Are you kidding me, boy? Or are you mental? You’re way too old. How could you be his grandson?”

Deke shrugs.  
“You know what, it doesn’t matter. What matters is, that he has a lot of people who really care about him. Me, my grandma Jemma - who’s pregnant with their son by the way - his mom and the entire SHIELD team. We all love him. _We_ are his family.  He doesn’t need you.”

Alistair’s face slowly turns red.    
“How dare you …” He starts, but Fitz cuts him off.

“Deke is right,” he says quietly. “I don’t need you. _We_ don’t need you. Not ever again. If there ever was a chance that I would forgive you for all the pain you caused me, it’s long gone. Just because you are my biological father doesn’t mean I have to love you. It took me some time, but I know this now. You’re not a part of my life now and you never will be. And it’s your fault alone. Neither I nor my mother are responsible for your actions and choices. You made the wrong decision long ago. Now deal with the consequences.”

Alistair’s face is a mask of anger and confusion.  
But there’s also something in his eyes, that lets Fitz feel a bit triumph at last.  
It’s regret.  
It’s not much. It’s only a glimpse.  
But it’s there.

Good, Fitz thinks grimly.

The next moment, Deke grabs his arm, glaring at his great-grandfather one last time.  
“Come on Gramps. We still have to find a present for Grandma, remember?”

Fitz nods, turning around, leaving his father behind him.  
“Yeah. We … we better go, before the shops close.”

They leave without another look back.

 

“Deke?” Fitz says after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah?” Deke asks, looking at him attentively.

“Thanks.”

Deke just smiles at him.


	15. I Don't Belong Here (Post Season 5, Fitz & Hunter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz can't stand the way the others look at him. He flees. He goes to someone who cares but wasn't there ... (Post Season 5, Fitz & Hunter)

It’s night and the streets are almost empty.  
A hollow wind blows dry leaves and abandoned newspapers over the road.

Fitz feels like he’s walking through a wasteland that slowly gets flooded. The image fits his mood. Depressed and melancholic.

Rain is beating down on him incessantly.  
By now, he doesn’t even feel the cold.

His mind and body are numb.

 

He finds the right house just as there’s a first silent roaring of thunder in the distance.

 

He raises his hand to knock at the door and lets it sink again.  
Maybe he should rather stay on his own.  
Staying on his own means, that he can only hurt himself.  
That’s a reassuring thought.

But beside that thought, there’s also the need to see someone, who won’t look at him the way the others are doing now. Someone, who cares but wasn’t there.

 

He needs to know what to do.

 

After some anxious moments he finally dares to knock and holds his breath.

For a long moment nothing happens.

Maybe he isn’t home, Fitz thinks, nervously fumbling with the fingers of his bad hand, that has started trembling again since he has woken up.  
Maybe he’s …

The next moment the door opens almost abruptly, and Fitz flinches.

 

 

 

Hunter looks out, his eyes narrowed in wariness.  
He has a gun loosely in his hand.

“Hey,” Fitz says hoarsely.

“Fitz?” Hunter looks him up and down. The surprise in his eyes changes to worry.  
“What the bloody hell are you doing out there? You will catch yourself pneumonia, idiot. What are you waiting for? Come in …”

He turns around, mumbling something about crazy Scots to himself.

Fitz follows him into the flat, feeling a hint of warmth in his body for the first time since he left the Zephyr.

 

In the living room, the TV is on, but muted. It looks like Hunter is watching an old James Bond movie. Black and white kind of old.  
On the table in front of the couch is beer and a huge bowl of something that looks like popcorn mixed with nachos, covered in salsa.  
There’s a lonely, grey pair of briefs hanging over the couch.

Hunter makes an apologizing noise.  
“Wasn’t really expecting someone,” he says, side eyeing the briefs.   

“Sorry,” Fitz says out of reflex.  
The warmth starts to disappear already. Replaced by another wave of self-hatred.  
You destroyed Hunter’s movie night.  
Great …

He rubs the back of his head and sniffs. Water is running from his hair into his ears.

Hunter stares at him.  
“You’re dripping on the carpet,” he finally states.

“Yeah,” Fitz says. “Sorry.”  
_Could you stop apologizing?_ A voice in his head says. _It’s kind of pathetic._

Shut up, Fitz thinks.

“No. It’s alright. That carpet has seen worse than rain,” Hunter tells him. “Listen … You have to get out of these clothes. How about you take a warm shower, while I fetch you some old clothes of mine?”

Fitz nods hesitantly.

“Great. Bathroom is upstairs. Are you going to stay overnight?”

“Um.” Fitz nervously fumbles with the buttons of his jacket.  
Is he?

Before he finds an answer, Hunter nods resolutely.  
“You are. You can sleep in my room. I’ll take the couch. Have been sleeping in the living room for a while now, anyway,” he says and snorts. His voice sounds amused but mixed with a distant sadness.

Did he and Bobbi break up again, Fitz wonders for a second.

But then he shivers and feels icy water trickling down his back.

He goes searching for the shower.

 

*

 

Later, Fitz doesn’t know how long he’s been standing under the even stream of hot water.  
It’s just so soothing, that he doesn’t want to stop.

But maybe, he thinks vaguely, he’s actually just trying to escape any questions.

 

When he feels his fingers starting to crinkle, Fitz stops the water.  
He finds a towel to dry his body and a pyjama on the closed toilet lid.  
He didn’t even notice Hunter was here.

Fitz looks into the mirror above the sink, swallowing.  
His eyes are reflecting the things he’s feeling.  
It’s a depressing mix.  
Everlasting Sadness, worry, self-hatred, worthlessness.

He really wishes he could stop feeling so miserable.  
Because he shouldn’t, right?  
He should be glad. After all, this is like a second chance, isn’t it?  
Jemma sees it like that.  
Why can’t he just think the same and stop feeling like a stranger all the time?

He sighs.

 

When Fitz returns to the living room, Hunter’s back on the couch, the bowl of popcorn and nachos in his lap.

Fitz stops, nervously picking at the sleeve of the pyjama.

“Sit,” Hunter tells him.  

Fitz obeys.

Hunter eyes him for a moment, chewing and swallowing.

Eventually, he stands up with a groan, leaving the room.  
When he comes back, there are two steaming mugs in his hands.

He hands one to Fitz.  
“Tea.”

Fitz takes the mug. The warmth of it feels comforting on his tingling skin. The smell is soothingly familiar. Chamomile.  
“Thanks”

They’re sitting there in silence for a short while, sipping their tea, looking at the tv, where a good-looking British guy knocks out a few enemies with some quite extraordinary boxing skills.

But eventually, Hunter switches the Tv off.

He looks at Fitz, clearing his throat.  
“Is there something you want to talk about?”

Fitz tenses.

“We don’t need to talk about anything,” Hunter hurries to say. “Not now. It’s alright if you just want to chill out for a while here. Sometimes we need a time out. I get that. But if you want to talk. We can. That’s what I meant.”

Fitz feels gratitude for Hunter’s natural way of understanding.

He sighs.

Where to start …

“Do you know what happened while I was sleeping?” He asks quietly.

Hunter nods.  
“I do. After it happened, they came to me. Jemma and the others. They told me. And then they asked if I knew Enoch’s coordinates. And I gave them the note with the numbers I couldn’t read. The note Enoch gave me in case there’s an emergency.” Hunter rubs his nose. “They took the note and left. Obviously, they found you.”

“They did,” Fitz breathes. “They woke me up and said we will go home. On the Zephyr, Jemma told me what happened. She cried so much. I thought she won’t ever stop. She went through so much pain. And I wasn’t there to help her. Because … I was bloody dead but also alive somewhere else.” His hand clenches into a fist. ““Everything’s wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I was supposed to wake up and find Jemma. Find them. Instead, I wake up to her sobs and her heartbreak. It’s wrong.”

He takes a deep breath, shaking his head.

“I thought we will be in bloody space for forever. But eventually, finally, we arrived on earth. And I … I ran away.”  
He smiles bitterly.  
“I ran away and left her again. I left her a _note_. Fuck. I’m a piece of shit.”

“You’re not,” Hunter says quietly. “You’re overwhelmed. She will understand.”

Fitz shakes his head.  
“It doesn’t matter. You know why? Because I’m a ticking time bomb for them. While I was sleeping, my other self managed to suffer a psychotic split and hurt Daisy. Daisy! Of all people, it had to be Daisy.”

He looks at Hunter desperately.

“They look at me differently now. Daisy’s scared. Mack is worried. Jemma is … she said we will prevent it from happening. They think it might happen again, you understand? Now I’m a risk. A danger they have to keep an eye on. And I don’t know how to deal with that. Because I can’t bloody remember anything they do. I’m dead. I don’t belong here,” he says, feeling more desperate with every word.

“I don’t know what to do,” he finally states.

 Hunter looks at him attentively. When he starts talking, his voice is warm and calm.  
“First, you should try to stop being so hard to yourself. You don’t have to feel bad about needing time alone. Your wellbeing matters. Also you should remember, that it wasn’t _you_. You didn’t do anything to Daisy. You were sleeping.”  

“But … it’s the fact that I would be capable of doing this,” Fitz says, feeling tears prickling in his eyes. “I never thought I could hurt Daisy … I'm feeling like I'm some kind of monster. What if it happens again? What if it’s Jemma this time? How am I supposed to live with that possibility?”

He bites his lip so hard, that he’s tasting blood. The thought of Jemma, hurt because of him, is too much.  
He feels his breath quickening in his panic.

Hunter lays a hand on his shoulder.  
“You have to calm down, mate. The future isn’t set. It’s no use telling yourself that it could happen again. It will only drive you crazy.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” Fitz asks desperately.

Hunter clears his throat.  
“You could try therapy. I did that too. After what happened to Bobbi …” His eyes darken. He wipes his face nervously. “After that, I was a mess. Sure, you can tell yourself that you’re fine and you can show people a fake smile and tell them you’re alright, but inside … Inside is the truth. My truth was, that I couldn’t deal with it alone. My nightmares and flashbacks combined with Bobbi’s problems … it was too much. So we went to talk to someone. And it helped.  
You aren’t a monster. You’re sick. And there’s help for that. Nothing wrong with accepting help.”

Fitz thinks about it.  
He already considered it. But somehow, he’s scared. Maybe because it would mean, to live through everything bad that happened to him, again.

His father. Ward. The betrayals. Aida. The Framework.

The Doctor.

He shudders.

But … if there’s a chance, that it helps him to focus on the future Jemma and he deserve, he would try.

He would do anything, to stop feeling too broken to find happiness behind all the shadows.

“You’re right,” he says. “Tomorrow, I’m checking myself into a clinic. I call Jemma and tell her.”

Hunter nods.  
He squeezes Fitz’s shoulder lightly.  
“I can come with you,” he says. “It’s always better to not be alone, isn’t it.”

“Yeah.”  
Fitz manages a smile. He feels better now. Less like he’s about to crash under the heavy burden of misery on his shoulders.

“Thank you.”

 

After all, it was the right decision to not stay on his own.

 


	16. Ocean and Space (Fitz & May, Post Season 5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz has a bad day. Melinda May has fantastic timing. (Fitz & May, Post Season 5 - Tw for suicidal thoughts)

„What is it like, in space?“ Fitz’s therapist asks.

It’s a Friday in summer. Although it’s early evening, it’s still hot and the air in the office is heavy.  
  
Fitz wipes his sweaty forehead and thinks about the question for a moment. He knows how space _feels_. To describe it with words is difficult. „Space … It’s actually not so different from the bottom of the ocean,” he eventually says. “It’s dark and cold. It’s endless. So it seems at least. But in space, you also see some light. It’s not a light that makes you feel … hopeful or happy. No. It makes you feel lost. Because, you will never reach it. Like you never reach the surface of the ocean. It’s too far away.”

He falls silent and shudders. Memories flood his mind almost immediately. For a moment, he’s in the pod again, watching the shadows of the water dancing over the walls. There’s a pressure on his ears and a painful throbbing in his arm – but then it’s gone as quickly as it came and he stands in front of a large window, staring at the darkness of space, knowing they will soon be on earth again. On earth, where he died … Somewhere there’s an urn filled with the ash that's left of a body.

Fitz takes a shuddering breath and presses a fist against his forehead. Now he wishes, there would be a way to prevent memories coming with the words. He wishes he could separate them. Locking the memories away, deep in some place in his mind, where they would be forgotten sometime, without him even noticing it. But of course, that doesn’t work. You can’t just forget things. Memories stay, and you can just try to find better ones, happier ones, that can put them in the background for at least a while.

Right now, he doesn’t find any happy memories. There’s only the despair, the confusion and the bitterness of not knowing things, the others do. They look at him and feel things he doesn’t understand.  
Jemma mourned him. Daisy fears him. Mack regrets not having noticed that he’s fighting demons inside his mind …

Fitz groans. He presses his eyes shut. Breathing gets more difficult, as he struggles to push the images away. He feels strange … Like he’s floating away from his own body. He knows that feeling. He knows what comes next. But no, he can’t let that happen now …

“Fitz?” The voice of his therapist barely reaches him through the fog of rising panic.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles. _Liar_ , says a voice in his head.

He struggles to get it all under control. The voices, the images, the emotions. He doesn’t want to fall apart on the couch in his therapist’s office. Not again.

He loses the fight.

It’s not a big surprise, but it still manages to make him feel like a failure.

*

He walks back home, his eyes still burning from the tears he shed. The panic is gone. Now he’s just feeling angry and disappointed. _Pathetic … Why did you have to be so pathetic?_ Of course, there’s no answer to the question he asks himself. It’s quite a long way from town to his and Jemma’s cottage. Usually, he takes the bus. But today he feels like he needs fresh air and silence.

The street is almost empty. On his side, there’s a fence, separating some calmly grazing cows from the street, which are staring at him mildly interested with their brown eyes.

He walks over a bridge. Under him, he can hear the river rushing. He stops to look down at the unruly water. Suddenly, he starts to think about how it would be, to jump right into it … It would be cold. Cold and dark. He almost drowned before. He doesn’t really remember any of it. Just a rush of cold and sudden darkness. And the next moment, he has a thought that startles himself. _It can’t be that bad then …_  
  
And after? There would be nothing. No more pain, no more voices, no more struggle ...

Fitz shudders and hastily takes a few steps back from the railing. He starts to feel sick, when he realizes what just happened. He wipes a hand over his mouth and shakes his head. This is bad. He didn’t have such thoughts for months now. Didn’t have them since Jemma found him in the kitchen, crying, looking at the knifes in the drawer with blank eyes.

 _I should’ve taken the bus_ , he thinks dully.

Fitz hastily walks on, leaving the bridge and the water behind him. He quickens his steps, until he’s almost running, cold sweat trickling down his spine.

He walks around a corner and finally sees their cottage in front of him.

_Oh no …_

He stops. His feet won’t take him further. Something holds him back. He thinks of the moment on the bridge, and his stomach drops. How is he supposed to tell Jemma, that _those_ thoughts are back? He imagines her eyes, which would fill with empathy and … disappointment? Sadness? Or worse: Pity?

Again, he starts to feel sick. He's being selfish again. Jemma traveled through space to find him, to wake him up and bring him home, and he thinks about stopping to exist. He doesn't deserve her ...

He stares at the cottage in front of him, then at the empty street behind him. _I can’t … I can’t make her sad again. Why am I such a failure_ , he thinks, pulling at his hair in despair.

He can’t go back home just now. Not in this state. He needs … He doesn’t know what he needs. But somehow, he starts to walk a few, uncertain steps back from where he came from. He stops again, feeling lost. What am I supposed to do? He asks himself. What ...  
  
Suddenly, a black van comes his direction and he doesn’t really pay it attention. But then it stops beside him, the window opens, and he freezes.

Melinda May looks at him, her eyes hidden behind sun glasses. “Fitz,” she says calmly.

“May,” he answers surprised. He didn’t know she wanted to come over. And Jemma didn’t tell him. Maybe she was just around and decided to pay them a visit.

Well. She has quite the timing.

She looks at him for a second, the expression on her face unreadable. “You’re going somewhere?” She asks.

“No. I’m … um,” he scratches his neck restlessly. “I was in town. Had a therapist appointment.”

“And now?” May asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s late. Where did you want to go?”

Fitz swallows. He looks down at his shoes. “Nowhere,” he mumbles.

May takes off her sun glasses. She looks him up and down. Then she opens the car’s door. “Get in,” she tells him. Her voice doesn’t allow protest.

Fitz enters the car, closing the door behind him. He leans back in the seat and sighs.

May wordlessly starts the car again. She doesn’t drive them to the cottage. Instead, she drives further, past the village, a bit into the countryside.

She stops in front of a lake. Fitz knows it. He has been here with Jemma once. They had a picknick. Watermelon, self-made lemonade, kisses and giggles. A perfect afternoon. It seems like that was an eternity ago …

May clears her throat and looks at him. “Talk,” she says curtly, but not unkindly.

Fitz swallows. He struggles to find words, just like he did at his therapist’s office. “Today wasn’t a good day,” he finally says quietly, not able to look May in the eye. “I had a panic attack at my therapist appointment. Again. And when I walked home … I had a relapse. I walked over a, a bridge and I … I thought about how it would be like to … to jump.” He shudders. May doesn’t say anything. And after a moment Fitz continues. Because it feels somehow liberating, to tell someone else than himself or Jemma, who he doesn’t want to make sad.  “I thought how it would be like to not be there. To disappear. Like … like that other version of me did.”

When he finally dares to look at May, he startles at the expression in her eyes. She looks like she’s remembering something painful. Something she rather wants to forget.

 _She saw you dying_ , he remembers Jemma’s words. _She was there. And she didn’t come out of her bunk for days._

“I’m sorry,” he says, feeling guilty. Again.

May shakes her head. “Don’t apologize, Fitz.”

He sighs and presses a hand against his forehead. "I thought ... I thought I'm over this. I thought I'm improving," he says in a trembling voice. "I'm doing everything I am supposed to do. I'm going to every appointment. I'm taking the medication. And still I'm a, a bloody wreck."  
He snorts bitterly.

May lays a hand on his shoulder. It’s warm. “Fitz,” she says. “You have a bad day. That doesn’t mean you didn’t make any progress. Recovery isn’t easy. Often, it’s a struggle. And sometimes it’s like a powerful opponent, trying to force you on your knees. Trying to defeat you. But you stand up again. Because there are always reasons to fight, aren’t there?” She asks him.

Fitz nods. “Jemma,” he murmurs.

_Jemma._

She’s the anchor holding him in this world. He couldn’t live in one without her.

May nods. “Yes. Jemma. When you’re down, you have to remember the things that are worth living for. You’re still here, you’re together, and you can have the future you always wanted. There are good things waiting for you. And you go on, because at some point, you will be glad you did fight. Trust me.”  
She looks at him seriously, with a certain affection in her eyes. “I’m proud of you, Fitz. Phil is too. We are proud of you, not only because you always stood up again, when you fell to the ground. We are especially proud, because you never forgot who you are and what makes you a good man. You never forgot to listen to your heart and to be loyal, caring, understanding. Those things don’t make you weak. They give you the strength to fight all that bullshit back. What you did … the good and the not so good things, you did them to protect Jemma and everyone else who’s close to you. The Doctor in the Framework? Screw him. He was so much weaker than you, because he didn’t have your heart. He didn’t have your soul. He only had his fear of not being enough for his father and Aida. But you, you have so much more, Fitz. Never forget that. And never forget, that we are proud of you.”  
She pauses, giving him a small smile. "The world isn't a kind place. So it takes a lot of strength to stay a kind person."

Fitz feels tears in his eyes. He swallows them down. His heart fills with warmth. Her words are like balm for his troubled soul. “Thank you,” he breathes.

May squeezes his shoulder. “You’re strong. Don’t forget that. Kick that hallucination, the suicidal thoughts and the memories in the ass.”

He nods. “I will.”

May makes a satisfied noise, takes her hand away and starts the car again. “Let’s get you home,” she murmurs.

Fitz leans his head against the cool window pane and looks outside. He feels much better now. It’s good to know, that there are so many people who believe in him, when he has struggle to do that himself.

*

Jemma opens the door, looking slightly worried.

“You’re late,” she tells Fitz and hugs him, then she sees May behind him and her eyes widen in surprise.

May smiles at her. “We met on the street. And we talked a little bit.”

“Oh.” Jemma nods understandingly. “Please come in. We have leftover cake. And self-made lemonade.”

“That sounds good,” May says, following them into the cottage.

*

Much later, after May left – with a lot of leftover cake, which she first tried to reject half-heartedly – Jemma and Fitz are sitting on their veranda, watching the stars above them.

“You’re okay?” Jemma asks him sometime.

Fitz hesitates. He remembers May’s words and feels another wave of warmth overcoming his heart. He reaches for Jemma’s hand and squeezes it. “To be honest, I didn’t feel okay at all today,” he says quietly. “But … I’m feeling much better now. Really.”

Jemma nods, looking at him attentively. “You want to talk about it?” She asks.

Fitz nods. He takes a deep breath and tells Jemma everything about the therapist appointment, the panic attack, the thoughts on the bridge and May’s words.

Jemma listens. And when he’s finished, she hugs him. “I’m proud of you, too,” she says quietly. “And I’m always there for you. We share it. The good and the bad things. We share and like this, we will be alright.”

He nods and closes her eyes, feeling her warmth.

It’s a struggle. And sometimes it seems hopeless. But then the people who care for you, who love you, are there to catch you. And sometime, _you_ will catch _them_. It’s called being there for each other.


	17. Waiting (Post season finale, Daisy POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team is at the hospital, waiting for information on Fitz (Daisy POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me why I wrote this :/  
> It's very angsty and there's describtion of what happened in the season 5 finale. But in this, Fitz doesn't die.

Daisy looks at the clock and sighs.

Another hour of unbearable waiting has just begun.

She rubs her eyes. They are burning. She barely can hold them open anymore. The blurry clutches of sleep are pulling at her, and she’s almost tempted to let them guide her into a well-needed nap.

But she can’t. Not now.

She has to wait. For information. For a word. For anything that takes the terrible emptiness of not-knowing away.  

She has to know if Fitz is going to pull through.

Her stomach is clenching, and her throat tightens when she remembers another time. She doesn’t want to remember, but the memories mercilessly creep up anytime she thinks of Fitz and what had happened to bring her and the rest of the team into this little waiting room filled with heavy silence and the somber premonition of bad news.  

She will never forget.

After defeating Talbot, she was sure it was over. She was exhausted and her whole body hurt, but the world was saved and she was certain things could only get better now. But then she stumbled over Polly and Robin who were covered in dust and directed her into ruins, towards a sight that’s burned into her mind inerasably. Fitz, half buried under debris, his side pierced by a piece of metal sheet. She froze and let out a gasp. May looked at her, a lost expression in her eyes. Daisy ran past her, collapsing on the ground beside Mack, who was holding Fitz’s hand. A hand covered in dust and blood. Daisy whispered Fitz’s name and he looked at her, but she didn’t know if he really saw her. His eyes were glassy, the blue in them fainted to a dull grey. His mouth was moving but no words were coming out. There was so much blood. It was everywhere.

“No,” Daisy murmured. “No …”

She watched helplessly as Fitz’s eyes closed and his head fell back against the grey stones.

No. It couldn’t be … This couldn’t be happening. Not now …

Daisy looked at Mack, whose eyes were filled with wordless pain. “We have to do something,” she begged him. “Mack … we have to …”

He looked at her and slowly shook his head. “We can’t, Tremors. He’s bleeding too much.”

“No,” she said. “No. I … I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I can’t … I can’t lose him, Mack.”

“I know,” he said softly. Nothing more. Then, he turned his head to look back at Fitz, his eyes welling up.

Daisy shook her head. No. She wasn't going to accept this. She at least had to try ... She abruptly raised her hand and used her powers to lift the debris from Fitz’s body. There was a lot of dusty smoke for a moment, but then it faded and the whole damage was revealed. Mack gasped and Daisy froze for a second. Fitz’s legs were broken. They were in a strange angle and she even saw a bone sticking out. She felt sick. But she forced the nausea back and told Mack, “We can’t remove the sheet. He'll bleed out. Lift him up. I think I saw a hospital just two blocks away from here. We have to hurry."

“Daisy …”

“Do it.” The words came from May, she was standing beside them looking down at Fitz like she was remembering something dire. “He’s still breathing, Mack.”

“I ... Yeah. Okay.” Mack picked up Fitz as gently as he could and then they hastened out of the ruins, out on the street, where people were gathering, asking them questions, but Daisy heard nothing. Her eyes remained fixed on Fitz, who was limp in Mack’s arms, his bloodied dust-covered hand dangling in the air.

In the hospital Fitz was taken away from them in a heartbeat. Everything was a blur. Someone asked Daisy to sit down. Someone else bandaged her head and took her pulse. She just let it happen. She asked them for Fitz at some point, but they didn’t answer.  

Eventually, the rest of the team arrived, alerted by Mack. Daisy saw Jemma breaking down in Mack’s arms and she felt numb.

Someone told them that Fitz was in emergency surgery. That he was still alive.

Daisy neither had the strength nor the hope to feel relieved, but she knew that if she had found Fitz just a few moments later, they wouldn’t have to sit in a waiting room.  

It took her a second to remove the debris from his broken body. A second. But it takes the doctors hours to try to save his life. Since they sat down in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, nobody told them anything. Elena had lost patience one time, asking a nurse passing by. But she just got a tired smile and a “patience please”.

So they try to be patient. Daisy tries. But it’s hopeless. Her thoughts are racing and her feelings are burning her from the inside.

She sighs and looks around in the little waiting area.

The team is there, a calm tired round on uncomfortable chairs.

Mack dozed off some time ago. His head is resting on Yo-Yo’s shoulder, who is absently stroking his back. May is sitting on her chair upright, staring ahead, her mouth a thin grim line. She looks haunted, Daisy thinks. Coulson is holding her hand while looking down at a magazine in his lap. It’s the same page as an hour ago. Daisy looks to Jemma beside her, who’s slumped in her chair, looking like all strength lost her body. She stares into the void with a lost expression in her reddish eyes.

Daisy swallows and looks at the clock again. Another fifteen minutes of silence has passed.

 _Please_ , she thinks and doesn’t even now who she’s begging to. _Please let him pull through._  

She’s still angry. She still doesn’t feel like forgiving anything any time soon. But damn ... she doesn’t want him to die. She doesn’t want to lose him. Not Fitz. Not the guy who once told her that it’s okay that she’s different. Who hugged her and smiled at her and tried to protect her. Not the guy who watched movies or played Xbox with her in the middle of the night, when there was no sleep because of old unwanted memories or nightmares. Not the guy who had travelled to the future to save them. Who she had seen getting married to her best friend. No. Not Fitz, who just wanted to build cool things and help people, but instead suffered again and again and still went on. No.

Jemma makes a quiet noise and rips Daisy out of her restless thoughts. She looks at Jemma and sees a tear running over her pale face. Her heart breaks another time. She lost count of how often it happened in the last couples of hours. She reaches for Jemma’s hand. When their skin meets, Jemma lets out a trembling sigh. She grabs Daisy’s hand almost painfully hard, and Daisy lets her, squeezing back softly.

Time goes on.

Daisy feels herself dozing off. She's not strong enough anymore to fight it. But before sleep can finally overwhelm her, steps are approaching the waiting area and everyone perks up.

A doctor comes into the room, clearing her throat.

Daisy closes her eyes. She prepares herself for the words. The words which will make her entire world crumble.

_He didn’t make it. We did everything we could. I’m sorry._

But when the doctor speaks, the words are different. “It was a close call, but he pulled through. Right now, he’s transferred to the ICU. We’re going to monitor him the whole night.”

Daisy opens her eyes, staring up at the doctor disbelievingly. “You’re saying, he’s alive?” She asks hoarsely, her throat so dry it feels like it’s flooded by raspy sand.

The doctor nods. “Yes. But I won’t lie. He’s still not out of the woods yet. The next 24 hours are going to be crucial.”

Daisy takes the information in and doesn’t know how to feel. She hears people talking around her in hushed voices but can’t make out the words. Beside her, Jemma is trying to get out of her chair on trembling legs. “I have to … to see him,” she whispers. “Please …”

The doctor nods at her. “Follow me.”

*

Daisy supports Jemma on the way to Fitz. She feels her friend’s body trembling and the shaky breaths Jemma is taking are hurting her heart.

When they finally see him, Daisy feels numb. It’s like having a flashback. Back to when Fitz was in a coma for nine days and they didn’t know if he would ever wake up.

There’s glass separating them from him, because it’s dangerous to risk his immune system getting attacked, Daisy knows. Such things are familiar to her by now, after having seen so many people she cares about in hospital beds. After having been in one herself often enough.

Fitz looks small, surrounded by machines which are supposed to keep his body working. Most of his body is covered by a thin white blanket, but she can see that both his legs are in casts. She remembers how they looked when she removed the debris and feels sick again.

Jemma touches the glass with a finger and whimpers.

Daisy looks away because it hurts too much to see her friends like this. She looks at the doctor instead. “How … how are his chances?” She asks quietly.

“I can’t tell you right now. There still could be various complications. We just have to monitor him very closely. But … you might want to say goodbye. Just in case.”

Daisy swallows. The words feel like a kick into the guts.

*

“You know, I sometimes ask myself, why it had to be us. Why did _we_ have to go through all of this pain? Why did _we_ have to save this goddamn world? And then I get angry. So … So unbelievably angry. At everything and everyone. But when the anger faints, I remember. I remember that because it’s us, I found a family. Because yes, that’s what we are, right? We are a family. A little messed up, but still … You’re like a brother to me. And … and I still ask myself why you … why you had to … Well I know why, but … it’s … it feels like we lost parts of ourselves.”

She stops talking, because the pain overwhelms her, making her stomach clench so painfully, it takes her breath away. Daisy wraps her arms around herself and shakes her head.

“You just should have known, that I don’t want to hate you. I can’t forgive you. And I can’t forget. But I think … I think if we were given the chance … maybe we could have found these parts, you know? I know you were going through a lot of pain, alone, and I’m sorry we didn’t really notice. I think I should have noticed. But also … I would have liked to know, why you didn’t feel like you were allowed to tell us you aren’t okay. What did you think we would have said or done? Were you scared you would be useless or something like that? If you had told me, I would have tried to help you, like you helped me back then. When I … when I changed.”

Daisy takes a deep breath. Her throat feels tight. Talking starts to hurt. She looks at Fitz’s still face and wonders if anything she says reaches him. She read somewhere, that talking to comatose people helps them to wake up. But they’re all talking to Fitz for almost three weeks now, so she doesn’t know what to think about the information now.

She sighs and rubs her eyes. A look at the clock tells her that half an hour passed. Soon, Jemma will come back. Daisy sent her away, to get something to eat and drink. Jemma didn’t want to go at first, of course not, but Daisy didn’t back down. She can’t allow that her friend is neglecting herself. She promised to stay with Fitz while Jemma was gone, just in case he wakes up. Which won’t happen. Not now. The doctors told them so. They also told them that he might never wake up again. His body is too weak.

Daisy shifts her weight. She lays her hand on Fitz’s shoulder and bites her lip. “Jemma misses you. We all miss you. I miss you. So … if you can, come back? I know it won’t be easy for you to recover from this. But you’re not alone. You were never alone. Come back, Fitz. There’s a lot more waiting for you. This can’t be the end.”

*

Another week passes.

Fitz still doesn’t wake up.

Instead, his heart stops beating on a rainy Sunday. They manage to revive him.

Once when they visit him, Daisy's standing beside Jemma who is slumped over Fitz’s body, and she hears her friend whisper, “If you have to leave … you can. You can let go. It’s alright …”

Jemma takes Fitz’s hand and cries. Daisy strokes her back and feels empty.

*

Fitz doesn’t leave.

But he also doesn’t wake up.

Spring turns into summer. Fitz’s room starts to look like a flower shop. Robin brought a drawing, it shows a little house and two people standing in front of it holding hands, and Daisy really wants to think of it as a vision, but she doesn’t have enough hope left for that.

They even told Bobbi and Hunter by now, because they felt that they deserved to know. Hunter came to visit and told Fitz he was an idiot multiple times only to sit there for almost three hours holding his hand.

The only thing Jemma couldn’t do, was to tell Fitz’s mother. But Daisy knows Jemma’s aware they have to do it sometime. They can’t keep everything from her. Not when her son is likely going to die.

Fitz’s wounds are slowly healing. It’s almost surreal, Daisy thinks. To see the scratches on his face disappearing, while his eyes remain closed the whole time.

Once, she sits at his bed and goes through a few pictures she has taken a long time ago, when there was still a Bus. When they were young and excited and the world wasn’t that scary and merciless place yet. She looks at a picture of her, Fitz and Jemma and smiles. They’re sitting on their small couch, Fitz holding a bowl of popcorn of course, Jemma looking at him half fondly half stern while Daisy herself – she was Skye back than, she remembers faintly – is laughing at them and is holding a remote control in her hand. Without doubt, they were watching a movie.

God. She misses these times.

She tells Fitz.

By now, talking to him although he doesn’t react became familiar. Routine.

“We were so young back than. Do you remember how May used to look at us? She was so annoyed sometimes. We were basically useless, right? But … it was great. That time. I felt welcome, you know? I finally felt like I wasn’t some kind of unwanted nuisance. You two were great. I didn’t really have friends in the past. But you two … you really were like the siblings I never had and always wanted. Maybe it was dumb to think of it like this, but … I miss that time and I miss you. I miss us being silly and careless.”

She swallows. Her stomach clenches painfully and she wraps an arm around herself. “I miss you so much Fitz. And Jemma … she’s so quiet these days. We all care for her, you know. We’re there for her. But … I think she starts losing hope, Fitz. It’s been so long. Almost six months.”

Daisy shakes her head and looks down at her phone. Back at the photo of them. “I want you back,” she murmurs. “I want us back. I want to have the chance to try to … to find the missing pieces, you understand? I know that we can’t just go back. I know that we can’t get everything back we were. Everything we had. But … I know we could at least try and I know if we wanted to, we would certainly be more than we were when … when this turned into some kind of nightmare …”

She raises her head and exhales shakily.

Daisy's breath falters and her heart jumps. She puts a hand on her chest unconsciously. She closes her eyes. Because what she has just seen … it’s certainly been imagination. She had hoped for it so many times now. But it never happened. She waits a few heartbeats and opens her eyes again.

It’s not been imagination.

She looks into Fitz’s blue sparkling eyes and holds her breath.

Time seems to stand still.

A smile slowly spreads on Daisy’s face as her heart fills with the warmth of relief and joy. “Hey Fitz,” she whispers. “Welcome back.

You took your time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker and always grateful for being corrected! I'm constantly trying to improve my English, so please don't hesitate to tell me about mistakes. <3
> 
> Visit me on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
